Unexpected
by dracademented
Summary: {COMPLETE} After Ginny does Ron a 'favor', it all goes wrong. Or does it? Strange things are beginning at Hogwarts, and by the time it's all finished, no one will be the same. Draco x Ginny x Blaise; Draco x Ginny; Draco x Blaise; Blaise x Ginny
1. Unexpected

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Notes: I would like to make it clear now that I do NOT speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right? On to the story! Please review!

French translations: ((example))

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ginny sat and stared at her brother, not quite believing what he'd just asked her to do. Her day had started out normally enough, with her best friend, Lauren, hopping on her bed to wake her up. They'd then had a nice, normal breakfast, and attended their nice, normal classes. But as she sat in the Gryffindor common room, gaping at her brother and his friends, she came to the conclusion that their request was anything but normal, and that they had also gone completely bloody mad.

"You have got to be kidding me." She said, and Lauren shot her look that showed she was just as shocked as Ginny herself was, and that she, too, understood the _real_ problem. Well, besides Ginny's possible death if she actually _did_ this.

"Come on, Ginny!" Ron pleaded. "Do it for Gryffindor!"

"Let me get this straight." Ginny said, trying her hardest not to yell or laugh hysterically. "You not only want me to take illegal Polyjuice potion, but for me to then sneak into another House, _Slytherin_ at that, after having changed into Blaise Zabini, who happens to be the most dangerous wizard in the school besides Malfoy himself, who happens to be who you want me to get dirt on, which is what this entire scheme is all about?"

"Well...You don't have to say it like that!" Her brother reprimanded. Ginny couldn't even really believe this was happening. It seemed like it surely had to be a dream, and she felt strangely unattached to the whole situation.

"I can't believe you're agreeing to this, Hermione." Lauren said, looking at the studious girl with a new appraisal in her eyes now that her initial surprise was over. Hermione had the grace to blush.

"Well, everyone's a bit sore about that game. So when they came to me about it, I figured 'why not'?" She said, not meeting Ginny's eyes.

"I can't believe this is all because Draco beat Harry at Quidditch." Ginny said, slightly annoyed.

"It's not just that!" Her brother said defensively. "He's had it coming for years, the slimy little snake! So will you do it, Ginny? Please??" He was practically begging. Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"What is it _exactly_ that you want me to do?" She asked carefully, liking the nice, cozy realm of sheer disbelief that she seemed to be in.

"Well," Ron started, "I suppose anything potentially incriminating you may hear while down there will be good, but what we really want is..." He looked around shiftily and Ginny rolled her eyes. "The book." He finished, and her mind reeled.

"Oh no, oh hell fucking no." She said, shaking her head.

She knew what book he was talking about. No one knew exactly what was inside of it, but everyone in the school had a gigantic hard-on to find out. Because the leather-bound black book was _always_ in either Draco Malfoy or Blaise Zabini's possession. The numerous rumors surrounding it varied, but no one had the suicidal tendencies required to actually approach one of them about it. Not even Harry or Ron, not anymore.

Not since Draco and Blaise had come back for their sixth year with power practically rolling off them in waves, and something lazy and dangerous swirling just beneath the surface, flickering in their bored, hooded eyes. But the book...Some said it was a journal, others that it listed all of their black, evil deeds, others that it was a list of sexual conquests or muggles that they'd killed, and others swore it was their Book of Shadows, full of dark magick that they'd learned or created on their own.

"You _have_ gone mad, haven't you?" She questioned them. Because whatever the truth of the book's contents, she _knew_ it would be heavily protected.

"We know you can do it, Ginny! You're the actress, not us." Her brother argued. "We'd just fumble it up. But you can pull it off, I'm sure! And it's not as if you need to _really_ steal it. You'll be in Zabini's body and Malfoy would give it to you willingly. You'll be in and out, and Malfoy might not even be there." He was giving her that pleading puppy dog look, and she sighed, but still wouldn't relent. She didn't have a death wish, thank you very much.

"No way, Ron."

"Please, for me, Gin? We'll be eternally grateful, even if you can't get the book. And I won't mention to Mum why Dad's Scotch always disappears when we're at home..." He trailed off, and she glared.

"You're a complete bastard, Ron. Fine, I'll play your stupid prank. Though should anything bad happen and I live through it, I'm going to fucking kill you."

"YES!" Ron crowed, and then quieted down when the other Gryffindors in their common room stared at him strangely. "Thanks, Gin! I knew we could count on you!"

"Whatever." She replied, rolling her eyes yet again. Funny how she always seemed to be doing that around Ron. "So when is all of this supposed to occur?"

"Now!" Ron said cheerfully, and Ginny balked as her safe, numb place shattered, and reality came back alarmingly quick.

"Now?" She asked incredulously. "But Polyjuice takes a month to...RON! You've had this planned ever since the game, haven't you?" She accused, and he mumbled and looked away.

"Yeah." Then he faced her again. "Look, we've been watching them, checking out their routine, and Zabini's tutoring sixth year Slytherins in the library right now. He'll be done in an hour and a half, which means if we go upstairs and you take the potion _now_, you can make it to the dungeons by seven, and then be out by eight, which is when Zabini will wrap up his session. Just for good measure, we'll wait outside to distract him, so you can be completely clear of the dungeons. Alright?" He asked, his face filled with an eager light.

Ginny nodded reluctantly, and for more than one reason, which only she and Lauren were aware of, thank the gods. The whole way up the stairs, she kept thinking of what a horrible idea this was, and how she was going to be expelled at the least, and _that_ was only if Draco, Blaise, or some other Slytherin didn't butcher her first.

They walked into Hermione's Head Girl rooms, and Ginny changed into the larger robes and boots they handed her, and that she would soon need. She cursed silently under her breath the whole time, while Hermione opened her wardrobe, revealing a simmering cauldron. She used a dipper to fill a goblet that had been sitting beside the cauldron, and then picked up what Ginny assumed was one of Blaise's hairs.

"How'd you get that?" Lauren asked, concerned for her friend, though she thought the whole idea was rather entertaining over all, and Hermione..._blushed_??

"Well, I s-sort of ran into him in the hall..." She stammered, and then quickly composed herself. "Actually I almost didn't even get it then. He'd felt me pull his hair and yanked the strands from my hand. This one was wrapped around my ring, thankfully." She said, and handed Ginny the goblet.

Ginny took it, and Hermione dropped the long black hair into the vile looking glob that she was supposed to swallow. It sizzled and boiled, then turned from puke brown to a deep blue, almost black. Ginny gulped in apprehension, wondering how she'd gotten into this mess, and pooled her Gryffindor courage. She brought the goblet to her lips and downed the lumpy liquid quickly. To her surprise, it wasn't nearly as vile as she'd imagined. It tasted of lemons and musk, and left fire burning down her throat to spread into her belly and throughout her limbs.

The pain hit her suddenly, and it seemed as if her skin were melting off her bones. It felt like being mashed in some giant child's hands, and then having him clumsily reform you, twisting and pulling viciously. She heard someone scream, but couldn't bring herself to think past the sheer agony. Then, just as suddenly, it was over, and her slightly raw throat told her that it had been she who had screamed.

She caught sight of her reflection and gaped, not hearing her friends' inquiries asking if she was okay. She'd known, she'd been expecting it, but it was still a shock to see herself wrapped in another's skin. And as far as bodies went, she sure as hell didn't get a bad specimen, she thought as she looked over herself in Blaise's body. She was now his exact mirror. It was his elegant, arrogant and nearly-androgynous features reflected back at her, his broad shoulders and narrow hips.

It was definitely his lithe and muscled body that countless girls (and boys) had drooled over, shaped from innumerable generations of aristocratic blood and hours of playing as a Chaser for Slytherin. There was also the same waist-length, silky, velvet-soft black hair and stunning dark blue eyes. She was amazed, and more than slightly thrilled. She turned to see them all looking at her.

"What?" She asked, and the soft, low baritone of her voice surprised her for a second.

"Nothing, it's just really strange." Harry commented, and the others nodded.

"You're totally hot, Gin." Lauren said, her eyes raking over Ginny's new form. Ron blanched, and turned to stare.

"But she's _Zabini_!" He protested. Lauren, Ginny, Hermione, and even Harry laughed.

"Exactly." Lauren replied, and Ron shook his head, dismissing it as he did all things that he didn't understand.

"Alright, whatever. Gin, put Harry's cloak on until we get to the Slytherin dorms. We'll split up with you there." Ron said, tossing her the shimmering cloak.

"That reminds me." Ginny said suddenly. "How am I supposed to get inside?" Ron grinned.

"Harry followed Crabbe and Goyle under the cloak last night and heard Goyle mumble the password. Now, let's go! You've only got an hour before the potion wears off, you know." He said, and she threw the cloak over herself. Lauren stared at where she'd been, and spoke.

"I can't come, Gin. Detention with Filch. I'll see you later though, okay? You have to tell me _everything_."

"Alright. Later, Lauren." Ginny responded, and they left. All the way out of the tower and down to the dungeons, she repeatedly thought about how incredibly stupid this was. They finally stopped in front of a stretch of blank wall, and Ron whispered for her to remove the cloak. She tossed it to him, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"The password is _'Naguin Cala'_."

Then they were gone, disappearing under the magically enlarged cloak, and she turned to stare at the wall, still berating herself. Finally, she spoke the password, and the stone melted away. She had a moment of shock when the stones started bleeding, and cursed herself for almost shrieking. She was supposed to be Blaise, damn it, and she knew a little thing like a bleeding wall wouldn't disturb _him_ in the slightest. In fact, if she had twenty galleons, she would bet them all that either he, or Draco, or both, had enchanted the damned wall in the first place.

She walked in and stood stunned for a moment, another thing that she was sure Blaise would never do, but she couldn't help soaking in the rich surroundings. Soft, black leather furniture lay scattered around the room, and everything from the gothic chairs and couches to the huge mahogany table looked priceless. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, which were painted a deep green and matched the pillows strewn all over the place.

There were huge silver and black cushions that could easily fit four, and candles in their House colors were everywhere. There was one huge candelabra hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, and it cast eerie light and flickering shadows over everything. She looked up, and couldn't see the ceiling, but she did see two full, wrap-around balconies above her, before blackness covered everything.

A huge, black marble fireplace was blazing, but the flames were black, purple and green, and she wasn't sure whether they were actually giving off heat or not. Two sides of the room were covered in bookshelves, and there were a number of little study nooks built into the walls. Everything dripped money and elegance, and she was so taken by her surroundings that she didn't notice Pansy and Goyle until Pansy spoke.

"Blaise? Darling, what _are_ you doing?" Ginny snapped around, her heart almost pounding out of her chest.

"I was looking for Draco." Ginny said, hoping she sounded like the normal Blaise. Pansy grinned, and she felt a momentary twitch of relief.

"Typical." Pansy remarked. "He might be in your rooms, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen him since Transfiguration." Ginny almost choked, realizing she had no idea which room that was. Thinking quickly, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"My room? Why would he be there?" She asked, regretting it instantly when Pansy's eyes narrowed.

"Very funny, Blaise. Maybe because that's where you two _live_?" She said, exasperated. "So why _wouldn't_ he be there? Have you two been fighting? You seemed fine earlier." Pansy said, and Ginny cursed herself for opening her stupid mouth.

"No, everything's fine. I-I just didn't expect him to be in, is all." Ginny said, and almost cheered when Pansy's eyes flickered to a passageway on the right.

"Whatever you say. Just go check, but I have to go. Detention with McGonagall, the old prude. If you need to talk later, you know my password."

With that, Pansy and Goyle exited the common room, Goyle nodding to her respectfully, which threw her for a second before she realized that, _duh_, they thought she was Blaise. Then the more pressing part of that statement hit, and she realized that she now knew where the room was, but from the way Pansy had phrased that last sentence, they each had individual passwords.

Swearing, she moved off to the passageway Pansy had glanced at, and walked for a good thirty paces before coming to a dead end and a portrait of an enchantingly beautiful woman. Who, on closer inspection, turned out to be a vampire, which was made apparent by the dainty fangs she flashed as she smiled at Ginny/Blaise's approach.

"Evening, love." The lady vampire intoned in a musical voice, and Ginny saw that the portrait was slightly open, at which she breathed a sigh of relief. Because she seriously doubted that the portrait would let even 'Blaise' enter without the password. She'd seen how paranoid and cautious the Slytherins were, and was sure they had their portraits designed that way. She nodded at the woman.

"Evening." She replied, and then slipped inside the open frame, leaving it slightly ajar like it had been.

She stepped inside and just stopped her mouth from dropping. She knew Draco was Head Boy, but Hermione's quarters were _nothing_ like these. The ceiling was enchanted, but unlike the Great Hall, it was an alien sky that stretched above her. There were three moons, each a different, vibrant shade, and various planets and nebulas and galaxies shown over the whole expanse, with stars twinkling everywhere.

The floor was a shining, green-veined, black marble that reflected the brightly glowing stars, and had dark, plush, emerald green rugs spread out over huge expanses of it. The entire room itself was absolutely _enormous_, but was separated into three sphere-like sections. The middle area served as a common room, with two desks made of black and silver wezdink wood.

There were also two black and green velvet couches that sat to either side of a coffee table, which was placed before a fire pit and a roaring fire that was almost identical to the one outside. Bookshelves covered the walls all the way to the domed ceiling, and comfortable-looking black armchairs were scattered around, as were huge, velvet cushions like those that were in the House's common area.

The next room, to the left, was identical in shape, and also showed an alien sky, but was apparently the bathroom, and it put the prefect's bathrooms to shame. It looked like a chunk of actual rainforest, with real, towering, exotic plants and flowers that were spread around everywhere. The only light came from the dimly colored sky and twinkling fairy lights in the petals and leaves.

There was also a huge pool that looked like a mysterious, hidden jungle hot spring, filled with sparkling water that had steam rising from the surface. It even had a waterfall, which fell splashing into it and lulled you with the relaxing natural music that it made. She tore her eyes away, looking to the right of the common area, and saw the bedroom.

It, too, was huge and spherical, another alien sky occupying the ceiling, but the walls were also enchanted. It looked like a stolen spot of space and beauty, as if you'd be stepping into another world altogether once you passed under the archway. Candles floated in midair around the room, and the seductive scent of jasmine and lemons drifted over her. The fur rug was thick and black, and felt as if you were walking on a cloud.

The largest bed she'd ever seen sat in the center of the room, a huge four-poster with black and green velvet drapes that hit the floor, but had no top. The bed was also made of priceless black wezdink wood, but what caught her breath in her throat was the person occupying it, draped on the green silk sheets in nothing but baggy satin pajama pants.

She should have known that he would be here, otherwise the portrait wouldn't have been open, but she'd been so nervous that she hadn't thought...Her eyes wondered over a muscled stomach and perfect hipbones, soaking in the vision of flawless snow white skin and admiring the waist-length hair that was a twin of Blaise's own, except for the fact that it was frosty silver.

Celtic vines so dark a green they were almost black were twisted into the rune of infinity, permanently inked forever onto his upper right arm. It was an enchanted tattoo, and constantly moved, the rune flowing into itself over and over in ceaseless rotation, much like the idea it symbolized. When he moved, parts of it seemed to shine like silver glitter in the light.

It was a startling contrast to his ice-kissed flesh, and as she looked again, she saw a name placed inside of the knot. It read 'Blaise' in the Old Tongue, which any pureblooded witch or wizard worth their shit had had learned long before Hogwarts. The ink of the name was entirely black, so much so that it was almost blue, and it seemed to soak up the light.

She realized with a start that it was almost the exact same color as Blaise's hair, and forced her eyes to keep moving, traveling slowly up a graceful neck, and lingering over the chiseled, arrogant, and perfectly beautiful features of Draco Malfoy's aristocratic, almost-androgynous face, before her eyes found his. Midnight blue met liquid mercury, and a sly grin quirked his full lips. She walked slowly towards him, almost in a trance.

"What are you doing back early?" Draco drawled, and Ginny's legs felt weak.

He stood in one cat-like movement, and she watched, fascinated, at the play of muscles under his pale skin. She jerked her eyes back up, scolding herself for losing control. What was she thinking, checking him out? She was supposed to be his best friend, not some goggling, lovesick schoolgirl.

"We, um, finished early." She said weakly, once again cursing her brother's stupidity, and her own.

"Did you, now?" Draco asked coyly, gliding closer and stopping less than a hand-span away. Ginny's chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe. This had been so stupid. So very, very bloody stupid.

"Yeah, um..."

But she didn't get to finish because Draco's lips covered hers, and icy shocks seemed to shoot down every nerve ending. His tongue snaked at her lips, and she opened them eagerly, before realization hit. She was...He was...She was _BLAISE_! He wasn't kissing _her_, he thought she was _Blaise_, and suddenly the one bed made sense, and she remembered Pansy's words about this being 'their' room, when seventh years usually have their own.

Ginny's heart seemed to sink and swell at the same time, even as her blood flowed like lava. She had somehow been pushed against one of the enchanted walls, and Draco's hands seared her skin, cold yet somehow warm at the same time. She felt him hesitate after a few seconds, and start to pull away, confused and wary silver eyes snapping open. She heard something, but was too far gone to realize what it was until a _very _unhappy voice cut through her haze.

"What the fuck is going on?" The venomous voice hissed, and Draco immediately sprang all the way backwards, his head snapping around. He reminded her strongly of a cornered tiger as his gaze flicked to the archway, and Ginny's blood froze as she saw the real Blaise standing in between the bedroom and the common area.

She didn't, however, see that his face was a mix between heartbreak and rage for a split second before it went blank right as she glanced up at him. Draco looked back and forth, and Blaise's still-furious eyes followed his. When they met hers, he looked slightly surprised, the fury fading a bit, before turning back to Draco, who was backing away, looking at them both distrustfully.

"Que être ma mère milieu nom?" Draco asked out of nowhere, his eyes moving from one of them to the other.

Ginny recognized the language as French, but she had no idea what he'd said. Blaise looked momentarily confused, before he gave a very Slytherin smirk and answered without hesitation, while sliding his robes from his shoulders, revealing a sleeveless black shirt and a tattoo that was a replica of Draco's, but said 'Draco' in the Old Tongue instead of 'Blaise'. ((What's my mother's middle name?))

"Mirabella." Blaise said smoothly, and before she knew what had happened, Draco's hand was around her throat and she was once more being slammed into the wall, but it was a lot less friendly then the last time. The air was knocked out of her, and she felt her feet dangling off the ground. She would have been shocked at his strength, but she was too busy trying to breathe.

"Vous défier! Qui le coït être vous? Foutu imbecile! Je dois déchirer sortir votre foutu gorge!" Draco spat, his face filled with a cold fury. Blaise had watched her own face throughout Draco's curses, and turned to him now with a slightly amused expression. ((You dare! Who the fuck are you? Fucking imbecile! I'll rip out your fucking throat!))

"Whoever it is can't understand you. Rappeler votre Anglais, mon âme." Blaise said, and Draco looked surprised for a moment, before nodding. ((Remember your English, my soul.))

"I knew it didn't feel right." Draco hissed. "Who the fuck are you?" He demanded, his eyes glowing in anger. Blaise had moved up behind him, and he didn't seem very pleased either.

She cursed her brother repeatedly in her head, thinking of numerous ways to make him pay if she lived through this, before motioning to her throat. Draco squeezed tighter, his nails digging into her like small daggers, before dropping her unceremoniously on the ground. She fell to her knees in a heap, gasping for air. Something warm trickled down her neck, and her fingers came away bloody when she touched it. Yes, Ron was _so_ going to die. When she felt confident that she was no longer on the verge of passing out, she looked up to see two wands pointed directly at her.

"Who are you?" Blaise repeated. "And what the bloody hell are you doing in my body? And snogging Draco, at that?"

"_He_ snogged _me_!" Ginny said without thinking. Draco snorted.

"Thought you were Blaise." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "For about a half a second, anyway." He flashed a wicked smile at the other Slytherin, who grinned right back and then looked thoughtful.

"You know, I suppose this is the one situation where the cheating party _really_ isn't guilty." Blaise said, and it was Draco's turn to look amused.

Ginny was reeling. Not just from the kiss and being caught, but because she'd seen more emotions from the two of them in the last few minutes than she had in over five years, and she'd just discovered that the two most shaggable boys in Hogwarts, both of whom she secretly had way more than a crush on, were shagging each other. Or so it bloody well seemed.

"Ch-Cheating?" She stammered, quite shocked over this turn of events, though in a way, she supposed she shouldn't have been. Draco gave her a calculating look, and then turned to Blaise.

"I figure it's Polyjuice. None of the idiots around here know any other spells to change form, except a few of the other Slytherins, and none of them would be stupid enough to even _think_ of doing this. So who could it be? A Hufflepuff would be too terrified, a Ravenclaw too clever, so it must be a Gryffindor." He spat out the last word as if it were foul, and Ginny wisely decided to stay silent.

"Yes," Blaise crooned, staring at her as if she were an insect. "And it should wear off soon enough, I would think. This is probably why the Golden Trio 'accidentally' ran into me when I left the tutoring lesson early. They seemed surprised to see me, and tried to keep me there. They definitely got more than they bargained for...But anyway, they looked worried and anxious, running off when we left. And that little mudblood Granger ripped out some of my hair the other day. I got most of it from her, but I've been wondering if she might have gotten away with one. I would have made sure, except the little bitch did it in front of McGonagall."

Ginny gulped. She wasn't stupid enough to think rescue was on the way. Because even if the trio went for a teacher when she didn't return, she'd still be in heaps of trouble. She was going to fucking murder Ron for this.

"Look, I-" She stopped abruptly as pain ripped through her.

The same feeling of skin-melting, bone-twisting disorientation and agony washed over her, before finally stopping and leaving her panting. She saw her usual red hair falling in front of her face, and looked up at them slowly from where she was kneeling on the ground, fearing the outburst she knew would come. Their masks were firmly in place, however, and not a single emotion or hint of surprise shown through as they discovered her identity.

"What brings you so foolishly into the heart of Slytherin, little Weasley?" Blaise asked, his voice bland and bored. She felt a pang at the title 'little Weasley', inexplicably saddened that they didn't even seem to know her name. But anger at her brother shone through her shyness for the moment.

"This is all that bastard brother of mine's fault. Stupid bloody prick, I told him this was the most idiotic scheme yet, but did he listen? Now I'm going to be hexed into next year or expelled, at it's entirely all his bloody fault." She was muttering more to herself then addressing them, lost in venting her frustrations, her fingers digging into her thighs hard enough that she knew there would be bruises later on.

"Riled up and sore over a sodding Quidditch game after an entire month! Honestly, it's pathetic. But here I am, blackmailed by the little shit, caught up in his harebrained plot that's already failed miserably, just because he wanted a goddamn book that probably would have bitten my bloody fucking hand off if I'd even so much as touched it. Stupid sodding _prick_." She hissed, still staring at the floor, then froze as she realized she'd just said all of that aloud. She glanced up quickly, and saw them looking at her half in amusement, half in anger.

"You came to steal our book?" Draco asked, and she gaped for a moment.

_"What!? _Do I look that stupid? No, that's what _he_ sent me here for, because he's a ball-less little shit. Gryffindor, my _arse_. But I had no intention of even attempting to get that blasted book. The gods only know what it might do. I've already had enough experience with cursed books to last a lifetime, and from what everyone says I'd probably get sucked into the ninth pit of Tartarus or something as equally horrifying." She said, shivering as she thought about the real reason she'd given into Ron's meager threat.

"Then why did you come?" Blaise asked, staring at her intently.

"Umm...Well, I..." She trailed off miserably, because it looked like she was also going to be humiliated before they killed her. Fabulous. She was _so_ going to haunt Ron.

"Yes?" Draco questioned.

"I was, um, I was sorta curious..." Gods, this was mortifying.

"Curious about what?" He asked. She moaned and buried her face in her hands, and her answer came out too muffled to understand, so she lifted her head slightly and repeated herself.

"It's stupid, really. Nothing you'd want to know about or that you'd care about. I'm really sorry and you can hex me now all you wan-" Blaise cut her off as he and Draco kneeled in front of her, their faces hard and blank.

"Why did you come?" He asked, his voice cold and distant. She shivered again, but this time it was from the hint of violence and danger in the air.

"I-I..." She couldn't find the words. How could she just tell them? They'd laugh and tease her mercilessly, or just curse her into oblivion.

"Virginia." Draco growled, a warning clear in his tone. "Why did you come?" She barely registered his words, too shocked that he actually knew her name. And suddenly, it all just came flowing out, even the things she'd never told her best friend, who was the only living soul that even knew part of it.

"I...I came because I like you both. I find you fascinating and intelligent and beautiful." She said, not thinking, because if she did, she'd die of humiliation. So she stared at the star-strewn wall and let the words she'd been too scared to speak to anyone tumble from her lips, not caring that they could use them against her quite cruelly later on.

"It started last year, really, when you came back for your sixth year. You both seemed so much _different_ then all the other boys I knew. I could barely stand for them to be near me, it felt so _wrong_, but watching you both didn't seem wrong at all. I liked your quiet dignity, the way you watched and listened instead of chattering mindlessly, and the way you only spoke when you had something worth saying. And…I've always been drawn to Slytherin." She paused, steeling herself.

"I was supposed to be in Slytherin, actually." She said, and she missed the glimmer in their eyes, since she steadfastly refused to look at either of them.

"But I thought my family would hate me, and begged the hat to put me with my brothers. It told me that I couldn't run from fate forever, but obliged me and put me in Gryffindor. Later that year, the whole thing with Tom happened, and he said almost the same thing. Then I came back for my fifth year and started dreaming every night of snakes, crossed swords, bleeding roses and the two of you." She closed her eyes briefly, and didn't notice them exchange semi-startled glances and move closer to her.

"So I watched you, and wished more and more everyday that I could talk to you. But I didn't think I ever would. I mean, who wants to completely humiliate themselves? And even if I weren't a hated Gryffindor or an even more hated Weasley, what the hell would I say to two people who have everything? 'Hi, I'm enthralled by you and I think you're the only ones who could understand me, and I think I could understand you, too. Why? Oh, because I have psychedelic dreams about you and sometimes I see the same blankness and blackness in your eyes that I see in my own'? You'd laugh me into next year and think I was psychotic." She paused, seemed to think that over for a second, and moaned again, once more burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, wait. Now you _do_ think I'm psychotic. This is just _brilliant_. Could you get on with the hexes, please? Dying sounds quite appealing at the moment." She said, trying to fully comprehend that she really had just said all that. To _them_.

Immediately afterwards, she began wondering exactly what the holy fuck she'd been thinking. Neither of them said anything, but there wasn't a chance in hell she was looking up. Ever. Preferably, the ground would open up and swallow her whole, like she'd heard Hermione quote from some muggle fantasy book. And Ron was so fucking dead at this point that it wasn't even remotely funny.

"Virginia." Her name was whispered softly, and she couldn't tell who had spoken, or if both of them had. Still, she had no intention of facing either of them for the rest of her life, which would hopefully be blissfully short.

"We've dreamed of you, too, Virginia." They whispered in unison, and her heart wrenched violently.

"Please, please don't." She practically begged, forgetting whatever pride she had left at the moment, because she really didn't think she could deal with them fucking with her about it right then. "I know that all of that was incredibly stupid and foolish, and that you'll have a wonderful laugh about it later, but please, not now." She said, barely thinking, yet again, as she spoke, because for a second, she had let herself believe that their words could be true, before reality had slapped her in the face. They could never have...

"We do not lie." They said, their voices low and addictive. She felt each place a hand on her at the same time, one warm by her neck and one on her lower back that felt like ice. She shivered violently, because their touch felt the same as it did in her dreams, even more intense, as if it were burning through her borrowed robes.

"We dream of snakes on the forest floor and dragons flying the winter skies." Blaise whispered, running his fingers through her fiery hair.

"We dream of our ancestral crests; the crossed black blades of Blaise's family and the crossed ice-silver blades of mine, but they're wrapped in bloody roses, intertwining with them and drawing them closer together." Draco said softly, his icy breath tickling across her earlobe and sending shudders through her already shaking form.

"And in my dreams I see the two of you." Blaise said, his hand moving deliciously over her exposed neck. "And Draco sees the two of us. And then..." He trailed off, and finally, she did raise her head. Her eyes met first his, then Draco's, and she knew now that they spoke the truth, and she could see they also knew how the dream always ended. She put their thoughts to voice.

"And then the world explodes."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

After leaving Ginny, the trio ran to the library to hide out and wait for Blaise. To their utter dismay, he came out almost thirty minutes early, and was surrounded by sixth year Slytherins, who were all gazing at him raptly as he explained the best techniques to prolong the effects of poisons made using nightshade and shadowleaf. There didn't appear to be a way to delay him, so Ron, who everyone knows lacks any type of subtlety, seemed to decide that desperate times called for desperate measures, and risked shouting an insult at Zabini when he was being flocked by fifteen of his Housemates. Housemates who tended to be quite violent when anyone fucked with Blaise or Draco.

"Hey Zabini!" He called, and looked pointedly at the sixth years, who stopped to glare at him. "Aren't they a little old for your 'tastes'?"

But Zabini simply smirked, slid his arm around the Slytherin closest to him and continued walking. He made it a point to whisper an obscene comment in the girl's ear as they passed by. Ron tried another tactic.

"Oh, maybe it isn't the young ones, then. That's right! You only get your rocks off with family, now, don't you?" Ron said spitefully. Blaise spun around, grabbed one of the male Slytherins, and pulled him forward by the hair.

"Thanks for reminding me." Blaise responded, and then turned to the smirking Slytherin. "What's up, cousin?" Blaise asked, and then kissed the younger man viciously, who in turn started kissing him back just as hard. The Gryffindors could do nothing but gape in shock and disbelief. He really _did_ want a family member like 'that'! When the Slytherins broke apart there was blood on their lips, and Blaise turned to look at Ron again.

"Anything else?" He asked, and the Slytherins began laughing hysterically when they saw the looks on Ron, Harry and Hermione's faces. The Gryffindors realized that they'd been had, and were finally able to pick their jaws up off the floor. Blaise sneered at them, and then turned back to his cousin.

"They make it so _easy._" Blaise said with a vicious smile.

"You've got to tell Dray about this." His cousin agreed. "He'll laugh for weeks." The Slytherins turned on their heels and began walking away, Blaise and his cousin licking the blood from their lips. Ron glanced frantically at Hermione, and nudged her forward. She shot him a glare, and searched for words.

"Ummm...Blaise!" She called, and he slowed slightly, sighing and turning to face them.

"What is it, _Gryffindor_?" He sneered, his face perfectly unreadable. (Or is that perfect and unreadable?)

"D-Do you know what Snape said was in the Galcigrag Draught? I can't remember and I chose it for my essay." She said, lying horribly and hoping that he wouldn't know the potion since Snape had never mentioned it.

"Hornbiggle wings, blackweed root, two drops of moondew and eight jarkus berries." He replied immediately, before turning and starting to leave again.

"Wait!" She called desperately. "I, uh-" But he spun, apparently having lost his patience, and cut her off, his eyes flashing and reminding her of lightning.

"I don't know what you're up to and frankly I don't care." He said scathingly. "All I know is that if I had to make a list of all the tortures that I'd rather never endure, let me assure you that conversing with you holier-than-thou, hypocritically righteous, saintly-wannabe, Gryffindor _fucks_ definitely tops the list."

Then he was gone in a flash of swirling black robes, followed by a sneering and laughing group of sixth years who were nodding their heads in agreement. Hermione, Harry and Ron stared at each other, still slightly shell-shocked, and then ran back to Gryffindor tower and grabbed the Marauder's Map. They could see Ginny's dot, and groaned when they saw Malfoy's dot right next to it. Then their hearts stopped. Because Blaise's dot had just joined the other two. They stared at each other in horror, and bolted back outside after making sure that they had the invisibility cloak. They were just about to round a corner when they heard voices they recognized coming from the bench outside Professor McGonagall's office.

"I still want to know why Blaise was acting so weird a bit ago." Pansy's voice said, and Ron shoved Harry and Hermione backwards into a shadowy alcove.

"Maybe he and Draco _did_ have a row." Goyle's deep voice responded.

"Those two hardly ever fight." Pansy said dismissively. "If I didn't love them both to death, it'd be almost nauseating how perfect they are together." At those words, Ron quietly choked and turned a funny shade of purple, Harry looked shocked and maybe even slightly disappointed, and Hermione's mouth once more dropped open.

"I envy them for that, sometimes." Goyle said, and the intelligence and feeling in his tone shocked the eavesdropping Gryffindors.

"Yeah, that and the billions of galleons each of the lucky bastards inherited from their fathers, while we still have ours to deal with. Though, in all honesty, Draco and Blaise will run the corporations better than they ever did, and they're thinking of joining them. Can you even _imagine_ it, Greg? Malfoy and Zabini Enterprises _really_ joined together? Oooohhh, it makes me tingly just _thinking_ about the power they'll hold. What they already have is amazing, but together they'll be unstoppable." She said dreamily, and Goyle laughed.

"We know how it affects you, dear. It makes us all tingly. We _are_ Slytherins, after all. And if it works and they expand to the muggle world..." He trailed off, and Pansy almost moaned.

"Absolutely filthy creatures, but good for business." Pansy breathed, and then her tone turned serious. "But really, I'm worried about Blaise. Didn't he look off to you earlier?" She asked.

"Yeah. When he first came in, he looked around like he didn't even recognize the place. Then he was being all weird and wondering why Draco would be in their room. I mean, _honestly_. Those two have always had their own room, _that_ room, so what was he going on about? And he didn't kiss your check and ruffle your hair just to piss you off, which he never misses an opportunity to do." Goyle said, and his observation skills shocked the Golden Trio, that and the fact that he hadn't grunted so much as once.

"Something funny is going on." Pansy said after a moment. "I changed my mind; you don't need to stay with me. Go back to the dungeons and ask those sixth years when they last saw Blaise, then go directly to Draco and tell him what's up. But don't talk to Blaise alone yet. I'm not sure, but I think someone gave him something or that it wasn't him at all." She said, her tone suddenly grave and vaguely threatening.

"I don't like leaving you alone, Pans. But if you're right and it wasn't even him..."

"It would mean there's an intruder in our House. McGonagall will be here soon, so I can't go. Hurry, and don't forget the wards would have alerted either Snape or Draco if someone unauthorized had entered, depending on which of them is tuned into them today." Pansy said, and Goyle agreed.

The Trio heard his departing footsteps, and shared what seemed like their hundredth horrified moment in the last half an hour. They left silently, then turned the far corner and ran. They were all thinking pretty much the same thing. That they were idiots, that it was all their fault, that Ginny had surely been found out by now, and that they had to save her from the Slytherins' wrath.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They sat silently for a moment, as Ginny tried to digest that they had not, in fact, laughed at her. Or hexed her, for that matter. Since none of the possible scenarios she'd built in her head had ever actually been deluded enough to depict them accepting it calmly, she really had no idea what to do when that was exactly what she was faced with. Basics first, then.

"So I'm not crazy?" She asked hopefully, and was answered with twin laughs.

"No. Well, at least no more crazy than we are." Draco replied, and she giggled softly, feeling quite lightheaded and euphoric all of a sudden.

"So, what does this mean?" She asked, surprising herself slightly.

"Whatever you want it to mean." Blaise responded, his fingers twirling one red curl. Then she felt Draco's silk-smooth lips kiss her shoulder, and couldn't stop a moan at the exquisite contact.

"What?" She finally questioned, as Blaise pulled her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles just as Draco's tongue darted out, flicking at her sensitive skin and leaving a trail of wet heat that chilled deliciously with his breath. She let her eyes flutter shut, and felt Blaise kissing each of her fingertips along with Draco's butterfly kisses on her throat, and decided that she _had_ died. Or at least she really, really hoped she had, because otherwise, she wasn't sure the Summerland could hold a candle to _this_.

"What he means, darling," Draco whispered against her flesh, his icy breath once more hitting the moisture from his tongue and raising goose bumps along her arms. "Is that we can be whatever you wish of us." Each word was punctuated with a small nip on her fingertips from Blaise, and Draco's chilly breath was moving closer and closer to her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"We could be friends." Blaise said, as his mouth moved down her hand to her wrist, his tongue flicking out and tasting her skin.

"We could be fuck-buddies." Draco said, his voice sultry, and his mouth brushed over the wound on her neck just as Blaise bit the tender skin of her wrist. She moaned again, heat, ice and lightning coursing through her veins to pool at her heart and groin before rushing through her all over again.

"We could be committed lovers." Blaise said, trailing light kisses up the inside of her arm as she shuddered.

"Or we could just be in love." Draco said, and a few things happened all at once. Blaise rose up, his body fitting flush against hers, at the same time Draco moved all the way behind her. His frosty lips sucked on the over-sensitized flesh of the gash on her neck, just as Blaise's lips captured hers in an electric kiss. Draco's hands ran up her sides, cupping her breasts, and Blaise's mouth was working absolute magic against her own.

The force of the sensations running through her shocked her in a vague sort of way, but she was enjoying it way too much to care. Then Blaise's mouth was gone and Draco was lifting her slightly until he had risen up on his knees, and he held her tightly against him, letting her lean back into his solid presence. She turned her head slightly and caught his silver eyes. They were clouded with lust, but she could see affection as well, and she kissed him hard, tasting her blood on his tongue and feeling his chilly temperature begin to rise.

She was lost in him as she felt a warm, hot mouth close around her nipple, sending shocks through her system. She moaned loudly into Draco's mouth as Blaise's tongue flicked across the sensitive bud, and didn't really care that she hadn't even noticed Blaise open her robe. Draco's hands were still cupping her breasts, and his fingers began teasing the other nipple as she writhed under their skillful ministrations. Blaise had one hand splayed against the side of her breast, his fingers intertwined with Draco's on her skin, while the other held her hip, keeping her pressed against him.

"Which do you desire from us, lady?" Draco asked as he pulled his lips less than a centimeter from her quivering ones. She was so hot she couldn't think straight, and gave them the first answer that occurred to her, and the only one that she thought would work.

"I want them all." She breathed, her eyes fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed pink from arousal. She missed the silent exchange they made with each other, but she did notice when the mouth on her nipple stopped its blinding pleasure.

"Then you shall have them all." They said, once again in unison, and resumed their separate tasks passionately.

Draco sucked, bit, nibbled and teased every millimeter of her lips, leaving her panting and squirming against him, while Blaise's hand had slipped farther under her robes as his mouth moved to the wound on her neck that was once again bleeding freely. His fingers brushed ever-so-lightly over the outside of her panties, which were soaked at that point, and she nearly screamed.

"More, please, oh gods..." She whimpered, and then froze as a loud bang came from the portrait hole.

They were fully in view as Snape, Crabbe, and Goyle burst inside. A crowd of sixth years milling around outside showed that they weren't alone, either. Everyone froze, except for Draco, who laid another kiss on her lips, and Blaise, who gave her neck a final lick and did up the front of her robe with quick, nimble fingers. She couldn't breathe, and the curious, shocked and disbelieving eyes of the Slytherins weren't helping.

They looked from her neck, to her lips, and then to Draco and Blaise. She looked over, and noticed the blood on their lips for the first time. Before the Slytherins could speak, however, what sounded like a scuffle in the corner of the room had them all looking over. Her brother, Hermione, and Harry appeared suddenly, the cloak falling to the floor, and she saw Harry and Hermione desperately trying to hold back a murderous Ron.

"Why are there _Gryffindors_ in my House?" Snape's voice cut through the silence like a poisoned whip. Ron, though, was in no condition to understand the unspoken malice and warning in the Potion Master's tone, and started screaming.

"I'LL KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU FORCE YOUR MALFOY AND ZABINI _FILTH_ ON MY BABY SISTER?!? GET AWAY FROM HER!!" He shouted, but the word 'force' caused Ginny's temper to rise. She pulled herself from Draco and Blaise's arms, standing and facing her brother, and felt them rise to their feet behind her.

"_Force_?!? You really _have_ gone mad, haven't you, Ron? Did it _look_ like I was being forced? Honestly!"

"B-But, they would have raped you!" He argued. "Pawing all over you like they were, you were probably under some dark spell..." She cut him off.

"You can't rape the willing, brother dear." Ginny said, watching him pale and turn faintly green. Oh, he _definitely _deserved to squirm a bit for all of her earlier panic, and she knew just how to get to him. She just hoped that Draco and Blaise wouldn't contradict her and ruin her game.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"WHAT?? You couldn't possibly want to..." Ron started before trailing off at the look on his sister's face. Hermione had never seen her like this before either, and it scared her, too. Ron's eyes lowered to his sister's neck, as if finally seeing the blood. Then his eyes shot back up and he took in the blood staining all three of their mouths, especially the Slytherins'.

"Want to?" Ginny taunted, a gleefully malicious smirk appearing on her still-flushed face. "Want to?" She repeated, and started walking towards him slowly, hips swaying and fire in her eyes. "Oh, I _more_ than want to. I crave it, need it, breathe it." She said, circling around behind her brother, who was standing stock-still, frozen in place.

"Gin...You don't mean that..." Ron tried weakly as Ginny ran her hand across his shoulders. Draco and Blaise watched her, dark passion burning in their eyes as they licked the blood from their swollen lips. Hermione saw the other Slytherins staring at their leaders longingly, her sharp gaze missing nothing even through her shock. She herself couldn't help drinking them in with her eyes.

"Oh, yes, I do. Why do you think I agreed to come? I've been fucking them for ages." She drawled, and Hermione knew her jaw must have hit the floor for the third time that night. Ron turned green, opening and closing his mouth, but no words would come out.

"_What?!?_" Ron finally exclaimed. Ginny ignored him, walking back to where Draco and Blaise stood. Draco stared at Ron's purple face another moment, then turned to Snape and started speaking in French.

"Faire vous penser son tête volonté éclater?" He asked, and Snape smirked dryly. Ron spun to face Hermione. ((Do you think his head will explode?))

"What did he say?" Ron demanded, and Hermione fidgeted under the glare Snape leveled on her. Draco sneered before speaking.

"En avant, sang de bourbe. Aussi tandis que vous êtes chez ceci, dire la Belette il pouvoir tété mon foutu cock. Il est possible décroître la enflement pour ce qui est de tous les deux pour nous." He leered suggestively as he said the last, and Hermione turned bright red as the Slytherins burst out laughing, while Ron looked as if he were about to either pass out or go into a rage. ((Go on, mudblood. And while you're at it, tell the Weasel he can suck my fucking cock. Might reduce the swelling for both of us.))

"_What did he say, Hermione?_" Ron once again demanded.

"I don't think you want to know, Ron." Hermione mumbled. This caused the Slytherins to laugh even harder, and Snape finally called for silence, then faced the Gryffindors again.

"Well, well, well." He said, obviously delighted with the situation. "I do believe you three have broken enough rules for me to have you in detention the rest of your time here. Pity, isn't it?" He asked with a vicious sneer. Hermione felt slightly nauseous at the thought, Harry looked absolutely horrified, and Ron went from purple to pale in record time, before glaring death at his sister.

"What about _her?_" He asked nastily, and Snape turned to Draco and Blaise.

"Was she invited?" He asked them, then couldn't seem to help himself and added, "As usual?" Ron choked, and Slytherin snickers filled the room. Blaise and Draco both slipped an arm around Ginny, pulling her tighter in between them.

"Of course she was." Blaise drawled, mockery dancing in his midnight eyes. "It was her turn to write in the book, and we got a little...side-tracked." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face at his words and knew her mouth had fallen open _yet again_, but she couldn't help it. At least Harry and Ron weren't doing any better.

"Yes, well, if you three will follow me, we'll get down to your punishments." Snape said, and the Slytherins' smirks grew wider. They filed out of the portrait hole, and Snape waited for the Gryffindors to go before him. The last thing they saw was Ginny being pulled into another embrace, her eyes glazing with renewed passion.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Please review!


	2. They Are What They Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Notes: I would like to make it clear now that I do NOT speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right? On to the story! Please review!

French translations: ((example))

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Blaise couldn't remember the first time that he'd met Draco. True, wizards could remember much farther back than muggles, but he and Draco had been together almost constantly from the day they were born. And ever since, until Hogwarts at least, they'd spent half a year at Malfoy Manor, and half a year at Tenebre Stella, the Zabini estate in Italy, which had been their House seat for millennia, much as the Manor had been for the Malfoy's.

They were together for every broom accident, every failed spell, every punishment, every swing of depression and joy. They were best friends, closer than brothers, and coming to Hogwarts hadn't changed a thing. Their fathers had made sure they'd always had their own set of rooms, but they'd done most of the enchantments themselves, and it had started out with two king-size beds instead of the one enormous bed they had at present. That hadn't changed until their fifth year, and he still remembered that day clearly.

They'd been going over the last spell-work sent from home, which most other students wouldn't even be reading about until the second year of University, and many more that no 'respectable' wizard would dream of messing with in the first place. Blaise had been so nervous, which was new to him, because he'd been very afraid that he was about to lose his best friend. He'd known that Draco had noticed him acting strangely, and he'd also known that Draco wouldn't let it go for another day without saying something. And he'd been right. As soon as they were done, Draco had turned to him.

"Spit it out, Blaise. What's been up with you the last few weeks? Did I do something?" He'd asked, his silver eyes doing what they only did around Blaise; showing just how worried and concerned he was. And Blaise had snapped.

"Yes!" He'd shouted, slamming his fist into the table. Draco, unflinchable, unmovable Draco had jumped, shock and pain in his beloved eyes.

"W-What?" Draco had asked, his ebony wand falling from his fingers and rolling across the marble floor. They never snapped at each other. Oh, they argued with one another like everyone else, but they never yelled. "What did I do?"

"Nothing! It's just...It's just _you_!" Blaise had exclaimed before really thinking about what he was saying.

He'd immediately known it was the wrong thing as something had happened that had never before occurred when it was just the two of them. All emotion was instantly wiped clean from Draco's eyes and expression, and the mind link that they'd shared since they could speak was gone. In a move that had left Blaise staggering and gasping, Draco had completely shut down his end of it and Blaise had felt so empty that he'd wanted to scream. Draco had stood swiftly, his eyes blank and dead, and Blaise had reached for him blindly.

"No, Dray, don't go. S'il vous plait." He'd practically begged when his fist wrapped around the sleeve of Draco's velvet robe. ((Please))

His friend had frozen, and when he'd spoken, his voice was distant, hard, and it nearly broke something inside of Blaise to know how much pain he'd caused his best friend with a single sentence. Because although anyone else would have cowered and slunk away at Draco's icy tone and frosty eyes, Blaise could read the tension in his body, the added tightness around his blood-red lips. He knew then, that no matter what, he would finally tell Draco what had been wrong with him, why he'd been so distant and strange. He could only hope that his friend didn't hate him when he was done.

"And why shouldn't I leave?" Draco had asked, his voice giving away nothing. "So I can watch you as you once again try your damnedest to stay away from me? Do I really disgust you that much? Or was it so you could explain in detail all of my numerous faults, so that perhaps I might be able to figure out how I managed to fuck even _this_ up?"

"Disgust me?" Blaise had questioned, thrown off at the very (inconceivable) idea. "No! And no, Dray, I swear you haven't fucked anything up!" Blaise had said hurriedly, while the thought that Draco had blamed himself for the last few weeks had made him feel as though his skin was being peeled off. Slowly.

"Then what is it!?" Draco had finally exploded, and relief had washed through Blaise temporarily as he'd seen heat in his friend's gaze once more, instead of that chilling darkness. Draco's next words, however, had knocked away any relief that Blaise had found.

"_What has made you stop loving me_?"

The world must have stopped in those few moments, as he could do nothing but stare at Draco in shocked disbelief. Not love him anymore? Fucking _impossible_. No, he could never stop loving this vision of glacial perfection. And to think that he had made Draco believe something so ghastly and so far from the truth was nauseating. Because if the reverse were true, he himself would be...broken. That seemed to be the only word that came close to fitting.

"Stop...Stop loving you?" Blaise had finally choked out, grabbing Draco's freezing hands in his own and slipping off the couch to the floor. "No, Dray, I could never, _ever_ stop loving you. The problem is that I love you too much." He had whispered, and Draco's eyes had widened.

"What? What do you mean?" Draco had asked, sinking to his knees beside Blaise and looking his other half in the eyes.

"Gods, Draco...I-I don't want you to hate me."

"Hate you?" Draco had asked, his face full of disbelief, much as Blaise supposed his own must have looked a moments before. "How on earth could I ever possibly hate you, mon frère?" ((my brother))

"Because...Because I _do _love you, Dray. I'm _in_ love with you." Blaise had murmured, dropping his eyes to the floor, and for the first time in his life, he was truly terrified.

Seconds later, when a sinfully soft pair of frosty lips had descended on his, he'd thought he was hallucinating. His own lips, thank the gods, had reacted on their own, eagerly returning the kiss that meant so much more than any other and giving his addled brain time to catch up. Liquid heat had pumped through his veins before Draco's frostiness had crept in, and he'd felt _alive_. His entire world had crashed down around him in the space of two heartbeats, and rebuilt itself into something infinitely better just as quickly. When Draco had pulled away, his cheeks had been flushed a light pink, and Blaise had felt the aroused heat staining his own pale cheeks.

"Sometimes you worry too much, mon âme." Draco had whispered, his permanently chilled breath ghosting over Blaise's flesh. "It hurts me to think you did not believe that you could tell me without gaining my hate, but I understand. I didn't know how to tell you either, you know. But is it really that surprising? It seems almost natural that things should move this way." He'd said, his words burning into Blaise's mind, and his hand tangling in his long, raven hair. ((my soul))

"Yes." Blaise had hissed as Draco's lips found his neck and his own hand had snaked down to clutch Draco's hip. "Natural. Forgive me, cher un." ((dear one))

"Always." Draco had breathed against his ear, sending dark, sensuous shivers down his spine. "When have I ever been able to deny you anything?" He'd asked, and then bit Blaise's throat hard enough to leave a mark and make him moan.

His fingers had dug harder into Draco's hips as he had pulled him closer against his body, their robes pooling on the floor around them. Their lips had met once again, repressed passion nearly overwhelming them. Draco smelt of jasmine and tasted fresh, like the first snowflakes of the season falling on your tongue. What was naturally cold had heated up quickly under Blaise's mouth and hands until it was nearly scorching. And yes, in a very distant portion of his brain, Blaise had noted that it _was_ natural, yet new and exciting and earth-shattering at the same time. The bone-jarring sense of completeness had lifted as Draco had pulled away breathlessly.

"Fucking shit." He'd whispered. "We shouldn't have waited so long." Blaise couldn't have agreed more.

And now, two years later, he sat on their one huge bed, watching his lover pace back and forth across the thick, black rug. Draco's silver hair swayed around his lithe figure, which was clad only in a pair of baggy satin pajama pants, as was normal for them both when within the walls of Slytherin House. He stalked from wall to wall with an inborn, feline grace that made the muscles just under his skin move seductively, and had a delicious tingling racing over Blaise's skin, which usually occurred when Draco was involved.

"Quit wearing a hole in the rug, love. You know how rare black yeti fur is." Blaise said lightly. Draco paused, shooting him an almost-apologetic look, and feebly fluffed the rug with his toe before pouncing on the bed. And, quite coincidentally, right on top of Blaise. Between one blink and the next, Blaise had a smirking Draco sitting on him, who had also managed to trap his hands above his head.

"What should I be doing then, beau?" Draco asked huskily, his icy breath brushing over Blaise's lips and making him grind his hips upwards. Draco hissed, his grip tightening, and Blaise caught a flash of familiar fangs from between his love's rosy lips. ((beautiful))

"Tense, mon âme?" Blaise asked breathlessly, running his tongue over the suddenly sharp canines in his own mouth.

"Every time I'm near you." Draco replied a second before he struck, his fangs sinking home and causing Blaise to scream.

Ecstasy shot through every cell of his body, dragging scream after scream from his throat before his own fangs sunk into a pale neck, driven more by instinct than anything else since he could barely form a coherent thought. Warm, yet somehow still chilling, blood poured down his throat, pumping power, love and ecstasy into his very soul. Draco's nails dug into his wrists, the pain almost sending him over the edge, just like the bastard knew it would.

But Draco's hands fell away; his nails trailing sharply down Blaise's neck and shoulders, while Blaise brought his own hands to Draco's back, neither breaking contact. They ground their erections together simultaneously, lightning shooting through them both. They threw their mind link open at the same time that Draco drug suddenly razor-sharp nails over Blaise's chest, and Blaise raked his own down Draco's back.

The mixture of intensely doubled pleasure and vicious, delicious pain sent them both over the edge, their mouths leaving each other's alabaster skin, feral screams ripped from their throats with their release. Neither moved for a long moment, their breathing ragged and uneven, tremors and shivers making themselves felt through their lethargic, sated state. They lazily licked the stray blood seeping from their freshly inflicted wounds, content and almost purring.

The skin on throats and chest and back healed immediately under their familiar ministrations, and they would have lain together for a while yet had a low, appreciative laugh not made their heads snap around. They hadn't detected anyone through their still-spinning senses, but they knew who they would see, because a month ago they had triggered her into their personal wards. She'd asked why it was necessary since she'd made it in undetected (mostly) when in Blaise's body. They'd informed her that she hadn't been undetected since she'd stepped foot over the threshold of Slytherin.

Severus had known immediately when someone unauthorized crossed the House's main wards, but had been in Hogsmeade when the ring alerted him. And it had been Blaise who'd had his and Draco's ring on that day, and he'd known too, which is why he'd left the study group early. They'd had a second ring made after that and now they each wore one at all times. The only reason his and Draco's wards hadn't mangled her before was because the nasty ones had been down for two hours while Dumbledore did his weekly scan of the castle. She'd actually been very, very lucky.

Slytherins trusted few, but they trusted her. It had taken a month and a night of mind-melding, which was her idea, but there were no more doubts between them. Now she stood in the archway, a very Slytherin smirk on her face as she walked towards them. They couldn't help but watch the way her hips swayed, the way her crimson curls framed her perfectly, and the way her charcoal eyes shone with a smoky pride and arrogance she had only recently begun to acquire. She possessed a natural grace, but it was intensified by the newfound assurance in her step.

"What an absolutely thrilling welcome. Please tell me you don't greet _everyone _like that."

"Never, darling." Draco replied, sliding off of Blaise and intertwining their fingers. A wave of his hand, and they were clean and unruffled once more.

"Hmph." She huffed, her eyes twinkling. "Well, are you two ready?"

"Ready for what?" Blaise asked, deliberately goading her as he and Draco stood. Her eyes flashed and he smirked.

"You know damn good and well 'what'! It's time we all discussed this like civil human beings." She said.

"Yes, but we're not really human, are we?" Draco asked as he began elaborately braiding the front of Blaise's hair, twining in silver ribbons among the ebony strands.

"No." She agreed after a moment. "But we'll try to save that for last."

"Of course, mon amour." Blaise said as Draco finished his braids and he began Draco's, his fingers moving in a blur over the strands. They were done in no time, not a single silver wisp out of place, the green ribbons perfect, and Blaise nodded his satisfaction. ((my love))

"You know," Virginia said, and their eyes flashed back to her. "For two pampered, lazy bastards you can move awfully quickly when you want to."

"One of the perks of our non-human status." Draco said nonchalantly, heading towards the huge walk-in closet.

He came back with his arms full of clothes, which he spread out on the bed. They each changed quickly, eyes roaming over familiar white flesh as it was exposed. They managed (barely) to keep their hands to themselves, and only because they were almost late for the talk Virginia insisted they have with the stupid Gryffindors. It appeared that Draco had chosen identical but opposite outfits for himself and Blaise.

The baggy pants he'd gotten for himself were dark green, the chains silver, and the long-sleeved fishnet shirt was black, trailing down to his equally black nails. Blaise's outfit was the same, except the pants were black and the shirt green. Form-fitting robes, which hung open, were slipped on next; the silk dyed in dark, shadowed swirls of green and black.

Last were the knee-high dragonhide boots, which had soft, soundless soles that made not a whisper over stone or marble when worn on a skilled foot. They looked to Virginia once more, and sucked in simultaneous breaths. She was gorgeous. For her half-birthday three weeks ago (it seemed a good enough occasion), they had bought her an entire new tailor-fitted wardrobe, most of which she kept in their rooms since that's where she spent the majority of her time.

Draco had picked out tight, black velvet leggings that disappeared into boots that matched theirs, along with a blood-red shirt that hugged her like a second skin and a forest green robe that fit her perfectly. The sleeves of the silk robe billowed over her hands, much as their fishnet sleeves nearly covered their own. Her fiery ringlets fell softly around her face to end at her waist, and she was absolutely beautiful.

"You look lovely, darling." Draco said, expressing Blaise's thoughts perfectly, as usual. Only a hint of red dusted her cheeks. It was taking more to make her blush now then it had two months ago.

"Are we ready, then?" She asked, her eyes raking over them.

"Yes." Blaise replied simply, taking one of her arms as Draco took the other.

They slid their wands into their sleeves, where a whispered word would drop them into their hands instantly. They grabbed their Invisibility Veil, a highly-upgraded version of the Invisibility Cloak, and covered themselves. They hadn't gone public with their relationship yet, and wouldn't until after this long-awaited conversation, whether the results ended up good or bad. Virginia had wanted to at least _try_ to smooth things over before they told everyone.

They reached Gryffindor Tower without any problems, the portrait not even raising an eyebrow when a disembodied voice gave the password, and they took off the veil once they were inside. At which, of course, everything went absolutely silent as the Gryffindors gaped unanimously. It took every bit of self control they possessed not to laugh outright at the looks of stunned shock they were given. The Golden Trio stood, their faces grim as they walked towards the green-clad figures waiting by the portrait hole. Neither Draco nor Blaise could keep the disgusted sneers off their faces as the golden three drew up close to them.

"We can go to my rooms to talk." Hermione suggested, fingering her Head Girl badge almost unconsciously. They did nothing more than nod slightly as she turned to lead them up the stairs, ignoring the Gryffindors' looks of fear-tinged disbelief.

"This one." Hermione announced when they reached the top landing.

She opened an oak door, motioning everyone inside. The Gryffindors sat, but Blaise and Draco took one look at the dusty, orangish-red, moth-eaten upholstery and their lips twisted, noses scrunching as if they'd smelt something foul. They promptly declined and opted to stand stiffly behind Virginia's chair, looking around at the bright, red and gold room and flinching inwardly.

"Okay..." Hermione finally started, breaking the charged, icy silence. "Where do you want to start, Ginny?"

"Well, you already know that we were just messing with you that first night. I told you I would get you back, Ron." She sent a momentary glare at her brother. "But we're not fucking around anymore."

"And what, exactly, does _that_ mean?" Weasley demanded.

"It means that we're...together, and it's staying that way." Virginia said after a moment. Her brother exploded out of his chair.

"No!" He exclaimed, and Draco and Blaise both snarled. Virginia looked at them warily before shooting her brother a warning glance.

"Yes, Ron, and you can't change that. You can accept it, or at least ignore it, and we can try to explain a few things. _Civilly_." She stressed the last, glaring, and he squirmed, recognizing their mum's 'Look' anywhere, and he immediately sat back down.

"Alright, so do you have any direct questions or comments?" Virginia asked cautiously, wanting it all to be over with.

"Yes!" Her brother said at once. "They're bloody fucking _Dark wizards_! What in Tartarus are you thinking getting involved with them!?" He asked, and Virginia fidgeted while Draco and Blaise interwove their fingers, gripping hard enough to break the bones of a normal human.

"Ummm, yes, about that..." Virginia trailed off, looking around the room as if wishing for something to save her from this conversation. _The conversation _you_ wanted_, she reminded herself, annoyed.

"Itcan'treallybehelped." She blurted out all at once. The trio's eyes widened to the size of a house elf's, and she just _knew_ that the Slytherins behind her were smirking like cats who had recently finished torturing and beheading the canary.

"_What_?!?" Ron finally shouted, his face rapidly approaching that particular shade of purple that only he could manage.

"Oh, you heard me." Virginia said with a sigh. She'd hoped they would get to this later. "You can't change a tiger's stripes, or something like that." Ron stalked up to stand in front of her.

"You can't go out with _one _Dark wizard, let alone _two_!"

"Merlin, Ron, it's not like they're going to join Voldemort or anything. It's just a different type of knowledge." Virginia replied calmly. Ron goggled.

"How can you say that!? Look at your first year!"

"Yes, but they wouldn't..." She paused again, having promised earlier not to lie. She thought for a minute and started again. "Okay, well, they wouldn't give a cursed diary to an eleven year old _girl_, at any rate. And if it had to do with Voldemort, probably not at all." She was pretty certain of _that_, at least. It didn't seem to appease her brother in the slightest, though.

"Bloody ridiculous." He mumbled under his breath. "Been bloody touched in the head, if you ask me...Hey!" He turned to Blaise, who was closest to him. "You bastards! You've fucked with her head haven't you? How dare..."

And without another word, he swung, hitting Blaise square in the jaw. Blaise's head simply snapped around, and he turned back with furious, crackling eyes. Before anyone could so much as breathe, Draco moved in a silver blur, backhanding Ron ten feet into a bookcase, his mercury eyes frosted over and flashing with a bone-numbing, icy rage that spread out from him in widening rings and instantly coated the room in blinding, freezing whiteness.

Draco hissed; a low, chilling sound full of dark ferocity underlain with a primal warning and just a twinge of madness. Blaise quickly forgot his own fury in favor of stopping the death he saw promised in his lover's enraged eyes. He stepped forward immediately, raising an arm covered in tiny sparks of electricity, and grabbed Draco's shoulder right before a hand that had suddenly grown claws tore out the Weasel's throat.

Draco relaxed at his touch instantly, and Blaise turned him around, stroking his hair and murmuring softly in French as he came down from the blood rage, which all of their kind held within themselves. Add that to the elemental fury, and, well...It's very fortunate that there are few things that can set them both off at once.

"_Ennervate_." Hermione said shakily from where the Weasel was propped unconscious against the bookshelves. His eyes popped open and he groaned. "Lay still. Two of your ribs are broken and you have a concussion." She did a few quick bone-knitting spells and a couple more minor healing chants before she helped him sit all the way up.

"What happened?" He asked groggily.

"I'm not really sure." Hermione replied, her face white and tight-lipped with fear.

"He managed to send Draco into a murderous rage within five minutes, that's what!" Virginia exclaimed indignantly. Draco pulled away from Blaise's soothing embrace; his eyes thawed but still flashing in anger, and ran his hands over Blaise's once-again discharged arms before turning to the others.

"What the hell _was_ that?" Harry questioned, speaking up for the first time as warmth began creeping back into the room.

"Gee, and here I was thanking the gods that you'd forgotten how to speak." Draco snapped sarcastically, while Blaise's hand tangled in his hair and pressed against his lower back. Draco leaned into the touch, a nasty sneer on his face as Ron slowly rose to his feet, obviously in pain.

"You're lucky he didn't want to kill you with the first blow." Blaise said scathingly as Ron whined and moaned, leaning all over the mudblood.

"What the fuck _are _you?" Ron spat angrily.

"Elementals." Hermione breathed, helping him into a chair. "I think." She added once she'd sat back down in her chair. Virginia looked up at Blaise and Draco.

"Do you want to or should I?" She asked, and Draco nodded at her to explain.

"They're Elementals, yes, but more, too. How much do you know about their families?" She asked, directing her question at Hermione.

"They're old," Hermione started hesitantly, dredging up everything she'd read on them. "So old that history has forgotten just when their Houses were founded, and some say they have always been here, their founders among the first wizards to Awaken. Noble and pureblooded to the last cell, they hold numerous titles. They're both famous for the number of shapeshifters born to their lines, not Animagi, mind you, but shapeshifters, and since Hogwarts has been founded, every member born to either family has been a Slytherin, although they haven't always necessarily married within Slytherin." Her voice grew stronger as she warmed to her topic.

"They're both reported to be closely related to Salazar Slytherin, by blood, and to have intermarried between themselves numerous times over the passing millennia, but not for nearly two centuries. Never has a Squib been born to their ranks, the magic in their blood always winning out. They have only been referred to as 'Dark' families since the Grindenwald war, although they have always studied and practiced the Dark Arts. Both families are huge, spanning the globe, as are their corporations, although the main branch of both families has only one heir each. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini."

"When I called you a know-it-all, Granger, I didn't think you knew about _us_." Draco said with a smirk. Hermione's cheeks turned slightly pink, and she turned away to face Virginia.

"Care to fill in the gaps?"

"Do you swear not a word of this leaves this room?" Virginia asked warily.

"Yes." The Gryffindors said in unison.

Alright," Virginia started. "Like I said before, they're Elementals. The first to be born to _any _line in almost a millennium. Draco is of Ice and all things Winter, while Blaise is of Lightning and all that falls under Electricity. Whereas a normal wizard is only a shell for their magic, Elementals _are_ magic, as I'm sure you know. But they are not just Elementals. They do have the shapeshifting ability of their lineage, but they are more than that, too. And here's where you have to promise not to flip out." At the Gryffindors' nods, she continued speaking.

"I'd really feel better if you would restrain my brother, Hermione." She said, looking seriously at the Head Girl. Ron began to protest, but Hermione whipped out her wand and bound him to the chair before he could move. After he quit struggling, Virginia went on with her explanation.

"The summer after their fifth year, they visited Romania because of a renowned tattoo artist there. After getting their work done, they decided to stay for a few weeks. They met one of the Ancients one night while hunting in the woods." The trio's eyes widened impossibly at the mention of an Ancient. "They were offered the Blood." No sooner had the words left her mouth before Ron started cursing, Harry went pale, and Hermione half rose out of her chair in an attempt to back away.

"As you should know by now," Virginia continued, "an Ancient is not just any vampire. They are the Twelve First-Walkers, the oldest and strongest beings on the planet. They do not interfere in the human world except rarely, and this one had had a vision. As you can probably guess from that, it was Neithotep who came to them. When they accepted her blood, she did not just turn them, even though her blood alone would have made them stronger than any other of their kind but for the Twelve themselves." Virginia took a deep breath.

"She let each of them drain her, then took it all back and repeated the process for the duration of the entire night."

Ron became absolutely silent at this, and Hermione and Harry gasped. They knew as well as anyone their age that an Ancient doing something like that (though it hasn't been done in millennia) is tantamount to them equaling the vampling's strength nearly to their own. The trio ran glazed eyes over the two arrogant young men standing in front of them, hardly able to believe or comprehend the amount of power that must be running through their veins. Correction, through their _immortal_ veins.

"She did leave a very small part of them human, so that they would be free to walk in the daylight without the sickness and the seizures it causes their kind, and so that taking blood isn't necessary quite as often. The Blood increased their Elemental magic dramatically, and allowed them the ability to control vast amounts of wandless magic, to the point where they don't really need their wands at all anymore, and using them has become more like habit than anything else. I won't tell you what the Lady told them of her vision, but I will tell you one thing she said, because it's relevant that you know."

"Well?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. "What is it?"

"She told them to pay attention to their dreams, and to look for one like they had been. They came back that year and _did_ start having strange dreams, as did I. They haunted all three of us last year and this last summer, and we only realized that I was having the same dreams they were when I snuck into Slytherin. And while I found answers, they just gained more questions. Because they had found the second part of what the Lady spoke of, they had found 'someone like they had been'. When they told me, I didn't believe them at first, but I do now. They found _me_. I'm an Elemental of Flame and all things Fire." She said, and held out her hand, palm up.

A small spark appeared above her outstretched hand, and quickly grew into a bright, burning ball of red-hot heat. The Gryffindors stared, their jaws slack, as they had been most of the time they'd been in the room. Virginia grew slightly nervous when they said nothing, nor even so much as blinked, but she couldn't help grinning when Draco leaned over and blew on her hand, instantly freezing the small sphere of flames. The ice ball fell into her palm, burning cold, and she would have dropped it had he not caught it. He then, of course, made a wonderful show of licking it as though it were a sinful ice cream cone. If ice cream cones could even _be_ sinful. Needless to say, he definitely made it seem possible.

"Well?" She finally asked, seeing that the Gryffindors' eyes had avidly followed the fire-turned-ice ball before slowly refocusing on her.

"Well...Ummm...Err." That was Harry, naturally.

"It's a bloody _shame_ that stupidity isn't painful." Draco sneered, causing Blaise to snicker.

"You're such a _prick_, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed. "You act like you're so perfect! What makes you think you're God, huh!?"

"When did I realize I was God?" Draco asked mockingly. "Well, I was praying and I suddenly realized I was talking to myself."

"Yeah." Blaise agreed, a slow, seductive smirk crossing his full lips, his hands dropping to Draco's hips. "He's definitely _my_ God. When I pray, it's usually something like 'Oh my God, Draco! Yes!'" He moaned breathlessly, grinding his hips against Draco from behind. The trio's eyes nearly bugged out of their heads, and Virginia couldn't help giggling. They looked back and forth, from the insanely snickering Slytherins to Virginia, and Ron and Hermione shook their heads. Harry, however, still looked heavily shaken up.

"Why so shocked, Harry?" Virginia asked curiously.

"They're both...boys!" He said hurriedly, his eyes panicky, and this caused the Slytherins to start laughing so hard that they had to sink to their knees or fall over. They held on to each other, laughing hysterically, and Harry scowled darkly.

"So?" Ron asked, surprising everyone since it was almost like siding with the Slytherins.

"You don't care that they're both male?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Prejudiced, are you, Potter?" Blaise asked between laughs. "You talk shit about us for not liking mudbloods, but here you are, a closet homophobe! H-Hypocrite." He choked on the last, laughing so hard that Virginia wondered how either of them could breathe. Ron glared at them before turning (as much as could, considering he was still bound to the chair) to Harry.

"It's not anything new, mate." Ron informed him. "Being gay is as common in our world as being straight. Actually, bisexuality outnumbers both of them. It's always been that way. I thought you knew that." Harry shook his head.

"No, no I didn't."

"Well, you do now, mate." Ron replied. "But back to business. Ginny, you can't be 'involved' with two 'almost' corpses!"

"_Corpses_!?" Draco and Blaise shot to their feet, their laughter gone in seconds.

"They're not 'corpses', Ron, now will you please quit provoking them before someone," she shot a look towards Draco and Blaise, "does something...regrettable?"

"Corpses!" Draco exclaimed again under his breath. "This from Weasley, the unofficial poster boy for birth-control, who looks like a kneazle just hacked up a hairball on his head. Bloody fucking _brilliant_."

"Fuck off, Malfoy!"

"Only if you help, Weasley." Draco crooned viciously, grabbing his cock suggestively and leering at the Gryffindor. Ron blanched as Draco stepped towards him, looking every bit like a hungry predator.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, stepping in front of Ron. Draco smirked evilly.

"I do believe you're catching on quite quickly to this bisexual business. Jealous, Harry? Don't worry; I'd rather gnaw off my own hands that lay a finger on your precious _mate_." He stressed the last word, and Harry and Ron both blushed to the roots of their hair.

"If you two are going to be with Ginny, don't you think you could at least _try_ to be nice?" Hermione asked suddenly. Blaise and Draco both sneered at her.

"Don't get any pretty little illusions, _Gryffindor_." Blaise said vehemently.

"We do not, and more than likely will _never_ like you. We care for Virginia, but nothing at all for any of _you_, so now would be a good time not to fool yourselves." Draco said icily. "The only reason we are even here is for her. So, no, little mudblood, we will not be nice, especially to people who have never shown _any_ Slytherin even an ounce of kindness. We will be decent, mostly, unless provoked, and solely out of respect for her."

"But beyond that?" Blaise sneered. "Nothing has changed. You're still a mudblood, he's still worthless, and he's still a sidekick. And I do believe we're done with this little Gryffindor inquisition. So sorry." Draco took his hand and they headed for the door.

"We'll wait for you outside, Virginia." He drawled over his shoulder, and she nodded, giving him a small smile. As soon as they were outside, Draco's hand twisted in his hair as he shoved him up against the wall, kissing him roughly.

"You're so hot when you sneer at Gryffindors." Draco breathed against his cheek a few moments (hours?) later, and cold shockwaves ran down his spine.

"Really?" He asked, managing to lift an eyebrow. "I suppose I should do it more often, then?"

"Oh, definitely." Draco replied before capturing his lips in another bruising kiss.

A tiny, high-pitched squeak had them drawing apart, only to see a small Gryffindor girl wearing the badge of a second year. Her eyes were huge, and somehow defied the laws of physics by growing even wider when she saw their faces. They smirked at each other; it really was too good of an opportunity to pass up. They did a small shift, letting their eyes glow eerily, and turned again as one to hiss venomously at her. She let out a long, blood-curdling scream, her mouth a perfect 'O', before turning and tearing down the stairs.

The door to Hermione's rooms flew open, but all the Gryffindors saw when they came out were Draco and Blaise in a worse state of hysterics than before, tears actually running down their faces as they shook with laughter. Hermione had already come to the conclusion that they were both slightly (maybe more than slightly) insane. But that didn't explain the...Voices suddenly rose up the staircase from the common room down below, asking someone who was sobbing if they were all right, and a girl screamed something about...

"_Two evil, demon Slytherins_?!?" Hermione nearly shrieked, cursing herself for being stupid enough to leave them alone inside _Gryffindor_ House. She really should have guessed something like this would happen. "What did you two do!?" Typically, they didn't answer.

"What did you two do?" Ginny repeated, half in anxiety, half in amusement, though she tried to hide _that_ from the trio. When _she_ asked, they slowly stopped laughing, drawing themselves up gracefully while continuing to snicker. They each waved a hand, and the tears were gone from their robes and faces, as was any trace of the severe attack of amusement they'd both experienced a moment ago.

"It's not _our _fault." Blaise said haughtily.

"Yeah, she was the one _spying_ on people." Draco supplied.

"_Innocent_ people at that, I might add." Blaise said cheekily.

"Exactly my thoughts. Hadn't done a _thing_, honestly." Draco added, looking at Virginia with wide, doe-like eyes.

"It's not like we-" Blaise was cut off by a scream echoing up the stairwell.

"THEY WERE KISSING! _REALLY_ KISSING! I THOUGHT THEY WERE ATTACKING EACH OTHER AT FIRST! THEN THEY TURNED AND SHOWED ME THEIR GLOWING DEMON EYES AND CURSED ME IN PARSELTONGUE!"

Silence. A mumbled question that couldn't be heard. Another shriek drifted up to them.

"DRACO MALFOY AND BLAISE ZABINI!"

Silence. Then a deep, rumbling noise that took them a moment to identify as dozens of pounding feet running hell-bent up the stairs. Threats and curses preceded the small mob of Gryffindors, and Draco and Blaise looked completely serious now.

"Stop them, O Golden Trio." Draco growled, a clear warning in his tone. "If they throw the first curse, we are not responsible for what happens to their bodies or their delicate sensibilities when they realize how incredibly futile their little sticks are against us." The three Gryffindors looked at him, realized he was _entirely _fucking serious, and tried not to panic. They ran to the landing, attempting to form a barrier between their Housemates and the three figures at the end of the short hallway. The owners of the pounding feet came into view soon enough.

"Move, Hermione!" Seamus shouted. "That traitorous Slytherin filth threatened my cousin! No one will blame us for fucking them up a bit! I mean, there's plenty of us, even for them! They're only some stupid Slytherin shits when you get right down to it." As soon as the last words left his mouth, instant, freezing cold coated the hallway and stairs, and lightning crackled after it, running over the ice-coated walls and ceiling, casting sporadic shadows over everything.

"Never mind, Hermione." Blaise's spectral voice cut through the screams that had broken out. "Fuck their sensibilities."

And then the charging Gryffindors got their first look at the _real _Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Draco's hair had become a mercury snowstorm, flying around him wildly. His lips and eyelids were a dark blue, contrasting vibrantly with his skin, which was shining like white-silver moonlight. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes looked like molten metal caught in a blizzard, the color in the irises swirling madly, and they were once more glowing, the pupils split like a cat's.

Where Draco's hair was snow and ice, Blaise's was shadows and pure lightning. His eyes flashed, a mini electrical storm trapped within them, his own oval, slit pupils the only parts not affected. His skin shone just as brightly as Draco's, but with darkened blue edges. They both looked positively feral, ethereal even. A shield covered them and one other, Virginia, shimmering in the air around them, and the volts of pure electricity that formed it made the Gryffindors' hair stand on end.

Another shield encircled that one, and it appeared a thin, see-through layer of ice. Ice that would eat your skin off within seconds, and that a muggle plane could collide with and not leave a scratch on its frozen surface. Shards of it that were as sharp as diamonds swirled around the shield, whistling through the air. With them using their power, the gathered witches and wizards could practically hear their senses going haywire, screaming '_Elementals! Danger! Run!!_'. So they did. As one, they turned and fled back down the stairs, not that any would actually admit to doing so later on. Gryffindor is known for bravery, after all. Who were they to disappoint?

………………………………………………………………………

Please review!


	3. The Eye of the Storm

Author's Note: In the first chapter, Ginny was widely referred to by just that. 'Ginny'. However, Blaise and Draco call her Virginia, so that is what I will call her, unless it's one of the trio's P.O.V's, all right? Just to clear up any confusion. Thanks to those of you who reviewed, I really appreciated it.

You may notice that I use both spellings of the word 'magic'. I only spell it 'magick' when talking of Dark Magick, everything else is 'magic'. All right? :)

Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right? On to the story! Please review!

French translations: ((example))

Oh, and interpret this however you want, but Sirius is ALIVE in most of my stories, this one included. Although, I don't see him having that large of a part in this one, but you never know! In fact, let's just pretend OOTP never happened. (No offense to those who love it more than their own limbs, or anything.)

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The entire way toward the dungeons, Draco had been cursing vehemently under his breath in French, coating the walls in ice and frosting every window and suit of armor that they passed. Virginia still couldn't _speak _very much French, but since he and Blaise had been teaching her she could at least _understand_ most of what he was saying. Or she would have if he hadn't been so very quiet about it, which was almost scarier then if he'd been screaming.

Having grown up with eight people who all had loud, explosive tempers, she didn't quite know how to handle the eerie, contained malevolence that Draco and Blaise presented. She knew they were both beyond infuriated, and she couldn't really blame them. Plus, she felt more than a little guilty for asking them to go and meet with the Gryffindors in the first place. It hadn't exactly been the most pleasant meeting in history. For a long, startling moment, she'd really thought that Draco was going to kill her brother.

If Ron had actually managed to _hurt_ Blaise...Virginia shivered. She shook the thoughts from her head as a bolt of lightning flashed outside one of the second-story windows they were passing, accompanied by an almighty 'CRACK'. She vaguely saw Blaise's eyes charged and glowing before her own zeroed in on half of a massive tree falling to the ground. Thunder boomed outside, more lightning flashed, and something began hitting the windows and bouncing off of them rapidly.

She walked closer, almost in a daze, and saw that it was hailstones the size of her fist. The storm wards around the castle began buzzing, warning everyone to stay indoors because the weather had turned dangerous. The wind began howling outside, tearing through the trees that were visible from where she stood. Dark clouds had come from nowhere and nearly covered the sky, tinting everything in a shadowed, gray half-light.

Suddenly, the sky seemed to rip open, a torrent of rain whipping through the air and instantly soaking everything she could see. Nearly half of it was freezing before it even hit the ground, thousands of tiny ice crystals bouncing off stone and grass. Everything lit up sharply with the flashes of lightning before fading back into twilight and shadow. She turned slowly, knowing in her core what had brought on this sudden, out-of-season storm.

She saw that they had stopped, and it appeared that the very air around them was wavering, a lot like heat mirages in the dead of summer, although there was nothing even remotely warm about them. But it was their eyes that fascinated and slightly frightened her; though the fear just seemed to make her desire them more, sending shivers down her spine and causing a smirk to twist her lips. Those alluring, magnetic eyes were shining ferally; the colors in them--silver and gray, blue and black--were twisting and swirling slowly, maddeningly.

"Are you coming, Virginia?" Blaise asked in that low drawl that came so naturally to both of them. The rage was still just under the surface no matter how calm they both seemed; she could see it in the slight tensing of muscles, in the gleaming white teeth that were still just a little too sharp to be human. And the fire in their eyes testified that they were anything but calm.

"Yes. Yes, of course." She said and took his outstretched hand.

Shocks immediately ran through every nerve ending, from the tips of her hair to the tips of her toes. She almost moaned, but managed to just grip his hand tighter in her own. Draco was still muttering darkly to himself, but had at some point switched to English. She caught 'bloody fools', 'flayed alive', 'fucking Finnegan', and something that sounded an awful lot like 'make my mum another corset from Gryffindor bones', but she chose to ignore the last and concentrate on the Finnegan part.

"What was up with Seamus being so vicious, anyway?" She asked. "I know he doesn't like Slytherins, but..." She trailed off as Draco murmured something about the sixteenth century and an oubliette. Virginia stared.

"Did you just say '_oubliette_'?" She asked slowly. "What would one of _those_ horrible places have to do with you and Seamus?" She'd read about oubliettes, of course. Old wizards and muggles had used them to place people in that they wished to be forgotten. It was usually a window-less hole in the ground, but some were a _lot_ worse than that, especially the versions wizards could come up with. Draco looked up at her again.

"One of those stupid Irish fucks tried to rape Ignatia Malfoy in the late fifteen hundreds, and succeeded in raping her friend. My kinsmen wanted to string him up in a cornfield, covered in oil and honey, leaving him to roast in the sun while the crows and their pet hunting eagles ate him alive over a period of weeks. But our laws made it her decision, and she chose the oubliette. More precisely, one that let him see into our Great Hall, so he could die slowly while seeing the food, drink and company he craved only feet from him. No one could hear him, while he could hear everything. My kinsmen did, however, put spells on him that kept him alive much longer that he normally would have survived, and made him believe that spiders, which he was terrified of, were laying eggs that continually hatched underneath his skin. I'm told that it was quite a horrific way to die. Needless to say, it reminded people to keep their filthy hands off our females." Draco said, his tone clearly stating he was of his kinsmen's way of thinking when it came to such matters, although he approved of her choice, too.

"So why is Seamus angry? Surely he sees that the man got what he deserved! Rape is punishable by death in our world, as well it should be!" Virginia said hotly.

"The Finnegans have hated us ever since, don't ask me why." Draco replied with a dismissive wave of one elegant, black-nailed hand. "It's quite all right, though. We're used to being hated. You can't expect much more from people with brains the size of sickles."

"You must be referring to Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs." A deep voice said from the end of the hall, carrying over the roaring of the storm. They looked up to see Snape approaching them, his eyes flicking across the shadows, his gaunt cheeks outlined starkly in the flashing light.

"You know me so well, Severus." Draco replied, the colors in his eyes beginning to slow from their mad, melting dance.

"I should. I've known you since you could breathe. Come, let's go to my chambers." Snape said. "And you can tell me _exactly _what happened." He said, his eyes shifting to the storm outside the window that they were standing in front of.

"Happened?" Blaise questioned with wide, limpid eyes. Snape snorted.

"Don't even _try_, Blaise Zabini." Snape said with a smirk. "There hasn't been an innocent bone in your body for longer than I care to remember. In fact, I do believe your fetal scans all came back with readings of 'Completely Evil'. Your parents were _so _proud."

Blaise glared at him while Draco snickered. Virginia couldn't help laughing herself, even though she wasn't completely comfortable around this 'new Snape' that she'd been around lately. It probably had something to do with the fact she had too many memories of him sneering down at her like a giant, livid bat out of hell. Which he still did in Potions, of course. In fact, he still did plenty of sneering anyway. It just wasn't malicious as long as she was within the bounds of Slytherin House.

She was starting to like him, though, and _that _was something she'd never seen coming. But he was amazingly funny sometimes in a dry, sarcastic way, and she had always respected his unrivaled skill in Potions. In two months, she had found that he wasn't nearly as bitter and cruel as he made out to be. He was like a surrogate father to the Slytherins, and had known Draco, Blaise and Pansy since they were born. They all trusted him, and Ginny found that she did too, now.

He was both Draco and Blaise's godfather, and had been their legal male guardian for the first half of their sixth year after their fathers had been killed only days before that term had started. No one alive but Draco, Blaise, Narcissa, and Snape know what really happened that day, except for Dumbledore and Silana Zabini, but she seriously doubted that even they knew it all. All anyone else knew was what had been headlined in every major broadcast and newspaper in the wizarding world for months afterwards. Two billionaires from old, powerful families; both brutally slaughtered simultaneously.

The official report stated that the residents of a small town on the border of the Malfoy estate, a town that lived under their infamous wards and protection shields, had seen the heavens light up a million different colors before the earth shook and the sky screamed. They were said to have believed that the wrath of the gods was upon them and had fled into their homes. Someone from the town had alerted the Ministry, but they had had a problem. No one can find Malfoy Manor unless they know, _specifically_, where it is, down to the last twinge in latitude, and even then they couldn't get through the wards, since only someone with Malfoy blood or someone keyed into their wards could pass through them without being blown to bits.

None of the villagers knew exactly where they were, mainly because the Malfoys sure as hell hadn't told them, so the Ministry had been stuck even if they'd wanted to try their luck on the wards. No one else but the villagers could see the bizarre lights, hear the horrendous noise or feel the earth rippling like water under their feet, because the wards shielded _everything_ from prying eyes. So for nearly an hour, no one had known anything except that both senior Malfoys were there along with Draco, Severus Snape, and Jeran and Blaise Zabini. And the Ministry had only known _that_ because the last three were the first three they had tried to find to help them get to the Manor, as only four living people had free access besides the Malfoys themselves, and they were three of them.

Eventually, Blaise's mother (and Narcissa Malfoy's best friend) had been found somewhere on vacation in the Caribbean, and she had agreed to get them through the wards, being the forth person with the ability. She, along with a team of nearly eighty Aurors (you can never be too careful concerning Malfoys) had passed the main ward a little before dawn. The Aurors had later commented that even though she had helped them in, she wouldn't let them see how to deactivate any of the wards, curses and nasty little surprises that had been waiting for them. When they _had_ gotten in, they'd known immediately that something had gone very, very wrong. The villagers hadn't exaggerated about how bad things were.

What came next was been splashed across so many front pages that Virginia couldn't even begin to count them all. When the Auror team had finally reached the Manor that night, their number, even with a guide, was eight wizards short from the deadly trek across the grounds. Not one of them would have survived the first five minutes without Silana Zabini. The Aurors had stormed into the Manor, and it was said they hadn't understood what they were seeing when they'd first entered the one of the smaller family study rooms. They'd said (and pictures later proved it) that everything was simply _red_. A lumpy red. A red that smelled of death and raw meat.

They still hadn't understood when they'd noticed the four people huddled in the corner. Four red-soaked people in green, hooded cloaks, two of whom were holding the other two down, magically and physically, and had seemed to be having a hard time doing it. Then one Auror had looked down and exclaimed '_Is that an ear?!?'_. And so it had come to be known that Lucius Malfoy and Jeran Zabini had been splattered all over the study's walls. The largest pieces that were reported to have been found included the famous ear, a portion of large intestine, and a piece of a femur. Even the rest of their bones had been ground into a sticky, scarlet paste. For two days afterwards, no story had been released on what had happened to cause their deaths.

Those two days had been filled with so much running around and gossiping, that at the time Virginia had thought her head would explode. Everyone had had an opinion, and everyone's seemed to be different. A few had said that Voldemort had turned on them, but most thought that it was unlikely he would kill his two favorite supporters out of nowhere. A few more had said that it was wizards or witches they had wronged, but that was discredited because there wasn't anyone powerful enough and because no one could get into the Manor to do it in the first place. Wild stories flew around that Snape or Narcissa had done it, that they'd been having an affair along with Silana, and anything else people could dream up.

Others wanted to know what spell it was, since what was described had never been heard of. Or if it had, it hadn't been in hundreds upon hundreds of years. But everyone's main focus had been on the heirs. Two boys who'd still been six months from their majority, which they would reach on their seventeenth birthdays; two boys who had been scant days from beginning their sixth year at Hogwarts, where they were among the top in their class; two boys who were about to inherit separate, multi-billion galleon accounts that are the largest fortunes in the wizarding world. Yes, they'd all been _very_ interested in them. In what they were doing there that night, what they had _done_ there that night, and what they were planning to do in the future.

And they were the most popular murder suspects. Everybody had seemed to eat the idea up that the two of them had killed their own fathers. It didn't matter what the reason was. It didn't matter if it was for the fortunes, didn't matter if it was in defense, didn't matter if they really hadn't done it at all. The pictures some rookie Aurors had taken just solidified that belief. Pictures of the two of them that dark, early morning, soaked head to foot in blood and snarling at the reporters. Pictures of them digging through their fathers' remains until they'd found their signet rings, while the Aurors in the background had watched, looking severely ill.

There were others of Snape and Narcissa, who were nearly as messy as the boys, trying to calm them down after an Auror had made a derogatory comment about Narcissa, and had foolishly done it within hearing distance. Draco and Blaise, who had reportedly not said a word until then, had attacked the man simultaneously. They'd had to be drug off of him, as they hadn't bothered with magic, and the only reason they hadn't gotten jail time for _that _was because they were on Malfoy property and _honest_ witnesses had seen the man provoke it. He'd spent a week in the hospital, and still had the marks of their signet rings branded into his flesh from their anger, which no one had been able to remove.

So yes, everyone had been more than pleased to assume the absolute worst, and wizards and witches had met up in large groups to discuss it and ponder over what their fates would be. Virginia had never really made her mind up, but if she was completely honest with herself, she knew that it was very likely that they _had_ done it. But she didn't think that if they did it had been for something like money. More like freedom, from what she suspected. They'd never told her and she'd never asked. When the time had come for them to testify in an emergency trial the day before that term had started, they hadn't said anything then, either.

They'd been hailed the Silent Sons, as they would not speak a word regarding that night, or a word at all in court. Neither had they worn black at all over the usual six month mourning period, which was unusual for them as that was what they wore most often, and had instead stuck mostly to green, even at school. Their wishes had been respected by the Headmaster, and their robes were passed over in the enforcing of the dress code. They had been found not guilty in the charges of manslaughter, as Narcissa, Snape and Dumbledore had all testified for them. Most believed that Dumbledore was really the only reason they'd stayed out of Azkaban, even though there had been no direct evidence against them.

The case was dismissed as an accident, the official story being that the two older wizards had been messing with the Dark Arts and it had backfired rather nastily. If it had been anyone else in that room but for Draco and Blaise, the whole thing would have simply been thrown out from the beginning, since no one had really liked either man. But their heirs...Well, that had been nearly as good as getting at the men themselves to the general population, which Virginia had found quite disgusting. Even her own family had believed them guilty, saying it was just like something a Malfoy and Zabini would do. And with all the people who believed they had done it, none of them believed that they might have had a good reason, if they even did it at all.

It was also reported that something about the boys was different after that night. It was a feeling around them, a feeling of power, though many didn't recognize it for what it was and the papers said only that they were 'odd and extremely dangerous'. Ginny had recognized it immediately at the feast the first night back at school that year; she had felt the dark energy that surrounded them like sewn-on cloaks. They had been avoided like the plague ever since, except by their Housemates. No one, not even the Gryffindors, threw nasty comments at passing Slytherins anymore, even if Draco and Blaise weren't with them. Today's little mob of Gryffindors had been the first move of aggression towards either one of them in over a year.

And she, as well as they, knew that it would cause more to try their hand at them, to test them. Like throwing a torch into a warehouse of full gunpowder barrels, it would start a chain reaction. The display of power on the stairs in Gryffindor Tower might hold them off a week, maybe two, but it can be quite shocking how quickly people forget what should not be forgotten, and how easily they can delude themselves. Virginia was just afraid that some fool was going to get themselves killed by challenging one of them. There were no laws against murder during an official duel; because once you crossed into the circle, there was no murder, only defense in every shape and form. The only spell not allowed was Avada Kedavra.

And Virginia knew, beyond a doubt, that neither Draco nor Blaise needed that spell to kill. The only question of whether or not the person in the circle with them would die was if they had managed to provoke one or both of them into a vicious rage beforehand. She would probably get her own fair share of challenges once they went public with their relationship, and at this point, she was just hoping that her family didn't disown her. Not that it would stop her. How could it? She loved Draco and Blaise, she knew that, and she couldn't imagine leaving either of them for anything. She had every intention of spending the rest of her life with them, or for as long as they would have her. She had never been as happy as she was when she was with them, and everyone else could fuck themselves.

"Virginia? Virginia!" Her name brought her sharply back to the present. Her eyes shot up, and she saw that they were standing in front of Snape's door.

"You with us now?" Blaise teased. "Because you weren't for a while."

"Yeah." She said, her cheeks heating slightly. "Sorry."

"Not a problem, ma chéri." Draco replied, taking her other hand and leading them into the study when Snape opened the heavy wooden door. The common area was lit by candles and the fireplace was roaring as they took their seats in the squishy armchairs. She could still distantly hear the storm raging outside, but it was muffled so far under the castle. ((my darling))

"So, what has happened now?" Snape asked in a dry, jaded way. They told him everything from when they'd first reached Gryffindor Tower for their meeting with the Golden Trio, to the end when they'd had to force themselves past the pack of maniac Gryffindors who'd thought the two Slytherins were homosexual demons. Literally. Snape whistled when they were finished.

"Well, you've really done it now, haven't you?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow at them. "In a week's time, you won't have a moment of peace."

"Let them come." Draco hissed. "Let them try their luck."

"After the first of them fall, they'll reconsider." Blaise said, his midnight eyes narrowing.

"Especially if we make it messy enough." Draco agreed with a feral smile.

"And what of her?" Snape asked, nodding to Virginia. They smirked.

"We've thought of that." Blaise said.

"On the walk down here?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Yes." They chorused in unison.

"Never mind." Snape sighed. "I'm really not surprised."

"We _are_ Slytherins." Blaise said haughtily, and a ghost of a smile whispered over Snape's thin lips.

"By this time next week, she'll be able to handle anything any of those fools throw at her. We can't do anything about her being challenged..." Draco trailed off, twirling a strand of silver hair between his fingers idly.

"But we _can_ make sure she kicks their arses and makes them _real_ fucking sorry." Blaise finished for him, a malicious sneer curling his lips. Snape turned to her.

"They have been teaching you already, yes?" He asked, referring to the Dark Arts and Elemental lessons she had been taking, with them instructing her.

Draco and Blaise were vehement that she knew everything she could that would keep herself safe. If that meant that she needed to roll up her sleeves and dabble in dark magick, so be it. She had agreed, because she loved knowledge above most else, and she'd been shocked at how much of their world had been hidden from her. There were so many, many different levels to dark magick that she could barely keep them all straight in her head. She had hardly skimmed the surface of what it offered freely, and there was much that was considered dark that wasn't the least bit evil. Discerning the difference was one of the things that she was learning.

They had taught her quite a bit already, but she knew it was nothing compared to what was stored inside _their_ minds. If she was only skimming the surface, then they had sunken nearly to the bottom. She had never known _anyone_ with as much magickal knowledge as those two possessed. Or as much power. It made her wonder exactly what the hell Dumbledore and everyone else was thinking by sending Harry, a seventeen year old boy who had no Dark Arts training whatsoever, up against the _Dark Lord_. It made little sense once she had considered it farther, and when she'd told Draco and Blaise her thoughts on it a few weeks ago, they'd laughed and said that if he won, it would be pure luck or Voldemort's own folly.

The Animagi lessons wouldn't begin for another few weeks, and where the process usually took six months to a year to learn, they assured her that they could teach her in less than two. They weren't Animagi, as they had no need to be since they were shapeshifters. Shapeshifting wasn't something you could learn, however, only something you were born with, a bit like the Metamorphmagi, but different since Metamorphmagi are limited to human form. Shapeshifters are born with one primary form, and for Draco and Blaise it had been tigers, although they'd soon learned to shift into pretty much anything that they wanted. They told her they had a feeling her Animagus form would match their primary forms, because she smelt like 'family', which is how they described the scent of their own kindred.

The Elemental lessons were different still, and later she would learn to tie her Elemental magic and the dark magick into one force. But they said that was still a while off, and had been concentrating on making the process of calling the magic easier, so that it wouldn't drain her as quickly. She was _much_ better at that, now. The Elemental stuff came naturally and wasn't nearly as hard as mastering the Dark Arts, although it was still taxing. She could keep a ball of fire that was a foot in diameter burning steadily for over an hour, which they said proved she would be strong when she was fully in control. Blaise could do the same with a ball of lightning, Draco with a sphere of whirling snow and ice, and both could with witchlight and darkfire.

But they could hold theirs for nearly two days before feeling any strain, and two more before running out of energy and needing to draw on their reserves. When she'd asked how in the bloody hell they'd figured _that_ out, they'd told her, with all honesty, that they'd once gotten stuck in a demon reality that was accessible at Stonehenge through the forth slab from the left of the north star. When she'd asked _why_ they were there, they'd mumbled something about a mutual distant cousin. She hadn't asked anymore questions about it after that. Otherwise, the lessons had gone smoothly, besides a few more shady comments that made her suspect her boyfriends were slightly mad, and more then a little evil. Which, it turns out, was fine with her. They were sexy as hell when they were being evil, after all.

"Yes, they've been teaching me." She replied, giving Snape a small smile.

"And they haven't done anything..._unusual_ to you, have they?" He asked seriously. She stared. And kept staring.

"_What_?" She finally exclaimed. "What do you mean 'unusual'?" Snape almost looked shifty. Virginia blinked and shook her head.

"No funny incantations? Odd runes in blood on your possessions? Strange, unexplainable smells?" Snape questioned, staring at her attentively. _I was wrong; if anyone's bloody mad, it's Snape, _she thought to herself.

"Umm, no." She said slowly. "None that I can think of. May I ask _why_ you're wondering if I've encountered those things?" She asked, and he sat back quickly.

"No reason. No reason at all." He said, and glared at Draco and Blaise, who were barely restraining their laughter. She glanced at her boyfriends, and their misty eyes met hers.

"Don't listen to him." Blaise choked out, gripping Draco's robes tightly in his hand.

"Yeah." Draco agreed, having as much difficulty speaking as Blaise. "We'd never do any of that to _you_. And anyway, Severus, we haven't done anything of the sort in _ages_." They couldn't help snickering aloud as Snape's glare intensified.

"_Ages_?" Snape hissed. "Two weeks ago is 'ages'? That pogrebin followed me for _days_ before I could get rid of it! Rolling its foul little body over everything and coating it in that horrible stench! I have never been so bloody annoyed in my life!" At this point, Draco and Blaise were full-on laughing, holding onto each other as they shook with mirth. Snape's mouth was twitching, and Virginia swore he was trying not to smile.

"A pogrebin?" She asked him. "Don't they infuse people with hopelessness until they collapse, before trying to eat them? I thought they were native to Russia."

"They are." Snape replied. "Like that would stop _them_." He said, waving a hand at the laughing Slytherins. "Draco probably just nabbed one from the Manor. Even I'm not aware of _everything_ that's kept within those walls, and I highly doubt that I would wish to be." Draco and Blaise smirked knowingly at this through their hilarity. "They put a charm on the nasty little bugger that wouldn't let it get less than twenty feet from me. I had to shield my classes and myself from its disturbing aura. And the _stench_..." The Potions Master trailed off, his nose wrinkling in remembered disgust.

"Poor Severus." She said with a giggle, and then froze. She hadn't even thought before she spoke, she'd been so comfortable and relaxed...But he didn't seem to mind, just raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"You sounded exactly like Narcissa just then." He said, clearly amused. Draco and Blaise finally stopped laughing, and looked up.

"What about my mother?" Draco asked, trying to sneer threateningly and failing as Blaise brushed soft lips over his cheek. Draco's eyes flicked to him automatically, a fond look crossing his face before disappearing an instant later. He waved a hand, and a tea tray appeared on the low coffee table that sat in the semi-circle their chairs made. They each took a cup of the steaming liquid gratefully.

"Oh, nothing." Snape said casually, answering Draco's question. "I was just noting a similarity between your girlfriend and your mother. I bet there are tons more. Why, plop blond hair on her and she could _be_ Narcissa." Snape smirked as Draco paled, his eyes flying to Virginia before relaxing.

"_Do_ fuck off, Severus."

"Now," Snape started sternly. "You know I'm saving myself for Black." Three mouths simultaneously spit tea everywhere, three sets of eyes grew huge, and Snape _laughed_. Really laughed. Tears gathered in his eyes and he gasped for air as the three students in front of him stared in stunned disbelief.

"I can't believe you _said _that!" Draco finally exclaimed. Virginia was shocked herself, but Snape had completely floored the two usually-unmovable Slytherins.

"That...That..." Blaise seemed to have trouble forming a complete sentence. "That was _wrong_." He eventually got out. Snape just laughed harder, especially when he saw their matching horrified expressions.

"I can't believe you _said_ that!" Draco repeated, staring at his godfather as if he'd grown another head, burst into song and professed his undying love for Dumbledore. "He's...He's a _canine_!" Draco spat the word out as if it were foul. Virginia supposed, that for a feline, it was. "And a Gryffindor!" He added for good measure.

"So is she." Snape pointed out once he could breathe again. Draco shook his head.

"No, she's not. Not _really_, anyway. She should have been a Slytherin and she practically is now, anyway." He said with conviction, and Virginia knew that from him, it was a high compliment. Snape looked at him intently.

"What do you mean 'she should have been'?" He asked. Draco tensed and looked over at her. She shrugged, and he turned his attention back to Snape.

"It was the Sorting Hat's first choice."

"Was it now?" Snape asked, looking thoughtful.

"Why?" Blaise questioned, slightly suspicious of the gleam in his godfather's eyes.

"No reason. Just curious, is all." Snape said, before turning serious. "Have you two cretins finished your _own_ lessons this week?"

"Yes, papa." Draco said in a sickly sweet voice, fluttering long, black eyelashes that Parvati Patil would kill for, and that happened to be the only dark hair on his body. "I also cleaned my room and didn't kick any of the house-elves, just like I promised."

"Oops." Blaise piped up, turning wide, innocent eyes on Snape. "I didn't know we couldn't kick the elves, papa. But I only kicked one this week and it deserved it. Really it did." Snape rolled his eyes, his lips twitching again.

"You two are _too_ much, sometimes. I've spent many a sleepless night wondering exactly what the bloody hell is wrong with you both." Snape said with a sigh. Virginia saw her boyfriends give him identical smirks.

"You've had sleepless nights over us, have you?" Blaise asked, his voice suddenly low and husky, sending chills down her spine.

"You dirty, dirty old man." Draco drawled, sliding from his chair in one liquid move and crawling on all fours towards Snape, whose face was expressionless.

Draco moved like the predator he was across the thick, black carpet, not making a single sound, the muscles just under his skin rippling sensuously through his robes. Anyone else (besides, perhaps, Blaise) would probably have looked silly crawling across the floor on their hands and knees, but Draco looked anything but silly as he somehow still managed to glide, his every movement filled with an inborn, elegant grace that couldn't be taught and his eyes full of something dark and unexplainable. Silver hair glittered in the rolling light of the flames, falling rakishly over one platinum eye and trailing down on the rug around him.

He stopped when he reached Snape's bent knees, and put a pale, slender hand on each of his thighs. Hooded silver eyes traveled lazily up to meet Snape's own, and a pink tongue darted out, licking blood-red lips. Virginia wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but Blaise looked both relaxed and amused, and she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the utterly ravishable figure that Draco was making. Snape stared down at Draco, his black eyes blank, and then brushed a long strand of mercury hair from Draco's face. Draco leaned in to the touch and...purred. Virginia almost moaned. She loved it when they did that.

"How would you like me to service you, Uncle Severus?" Draco asked throatily, a mocking glint in his eyes, and Snape just stared for a moment.

"You're barking _mad_, you do know that, don't you?" He asked Draco lightly after a moment. In a move so quick it was blurred to her eyes, Draco flipped away, peals of musical laughter tumbling from his lips.

"Am not." He replied from his new place at Blaise's knees. Blaise wrapped his hand in Draco's hair, his hungry blue eyes running over features as familiar as his own, but much more beloved to him.

"Yes, you are." Snape argued. "Thoroughly and irrevocably _insane_."

"I'm wounded, Severus. Really. I'm bleeding all over your bloody floor." Draco crooned in a singsong voice, and Snape looked as if he was refraining from rolling his eyes again, his lips twitching once more.

"That's fabulous, Draco. Do clean up when you're done." Snape responded dryly, and then raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Why _me_? I mean, I wouldn't have minded Azkaban _that _much." He told the stones above his head.

"Oh, come off it, Severus." Blaise said, grinning evilly. "You know you want our bodies. Bella told us the last time she came to see Narcissa and my mother." Snape glared.

"Bellatrix is more of a lunatic then the two of you." He snapped. "And _that_ is saying something." They put on disbelieving faces.

"No, not my Auntie Bella." Draco protested, recoiling. "She's been as sane as they come since she got out." He said, referring to the Azkaban breakout over a year ago.

"Definitely." Blaise agreed. "Wearing pixies in your hair, dying yourself green and dancing naked for the glory of Voldemort is perfectly normal." Virginia gaped.

"Does she _really_ do that?" She asked incredulously, and the Slytherins stared at her.

"I don't think you want to know half of what Bella does." Blaise finally said. "She really has gone nutters."

"Completely 'round the bend." Draco agreed.

"Psychotically deranged." Snape added, nodding his head.

"Oh gods." Virginia gasped, desperately trying not to giggle hysterically. She couldn't clear her mind of an image of the escaped convict dyed completely green, with rabid, shrieking pixies yanking out her tangled hair, while dancing naked and chanting with a dead chicken in her hand (she had no idea why Bella had a chicken, but in her highly amusing mental picture, she did).

"Honestly, it wasn't very amusing at the time. More like 'terribly and eternally life-scarring'." Blaise said, still slightly horrified at the one memory they couldn't seem to Obliviate no matter how many times they had tried. He glanced at Draco and Severus, and saw their eyes were slightly glassy, testifying that they, too, still suffered.

"Right." Virginia said. "Any more bizarre relations I should know about?" She asked, and all three of them seemed suddenly distracted. Snape appeared to find his tea fascinating, Draco became quickly obsessed over the sleeve of his velvet robe, and Blaise was positively riveted by the tapestry Snape had of the Dragon Revolt, which she was sure he'd only seen two or three thousand times before.

"Uh-huh." She said after a minute of watching them behave like four year-olds. "That bad, eh? You know what? Never mind. If I've learned anything in the last couple of months, it's that not knowing appears to be the less mentally abusing choice when it comes to matters like this. You can keep your creepy little family trees to yourselves. For the moment anyway." She said as an afterthought. They finally looked back up at her, typically not in the least bit sheepish.

"Excellent!" Draco said, flashing a smile that could, apparently, make her knees weak even while sitting down.

"Yes, enough with families." Blaise said, and turned to Snape. "I was meaning to ask you if you had any more ingredients for the Aetherius Draught. We wanted to whip some up later."

Virginia's eyes widened. She'd heard of that potion before. It sent you deep into visions, but not prophetic ones or anything. It was sort of like the muggle drug, LSD, which Hermione had told her about, except that it was much more...intense. It was perfectly legal, although not many people could make it, which made it extremely expensive even though the ingredients were dirt cheap.

An ancient Roman wizard had invented it, because he wanted to see the past. And that's what the potion did, if taken by someone with a trained mind and the ability for vision-walking. They could see memories of any time period that they chose, and experience them as if they were living them, along with an intense high. For an untrained mind, it was chaotic jumbles and an intense high.

"Yes. They're where they always are. I have plenty. You're out already?" Snape asked, and Draco and Blaise nodded.

"We're getting better at vision-walking, and the potion makes it more...interesting." Draco said. "We shouldn't have waited so long to start, but it's amazingly easy. I don't know what you made such a fuss about."

Snape stared and Virginia mentally reeled. She'd known they walked the visions, but she hadn't known _how_. She'd never thought to ask, as she wasn't learning yet, and had assumed they always did it the normal way. But for him to say that they'd started _late_ was preposterous. Vision-walking was usually forbidden until you reached the age of twenty five, and only then to those with the skill and control not to lose themselves among the twisted highways that spanned the land of dreams, visions and memories. They'd been walking those highways for nearly a year and a half, which was unheard of.

But, apparently, they hadn't had a choice on whether to wait any longer, as the dreams had come looking for them instead of the other way around, which was also unheard of. They said no one knew except for her, Snape, Narcissa, and Silana. Not even Dumbledore knew that two vision-walking prodigies were right under his nose. When she'd called them that, instead of going humble as anyone _normal_ would have done, they'd preened for nearly two hours, ecstatically chattering about how wonderful they both were. The sad thing was that she had agreed wholeheartedly with them, the arrogant bastards.

"I'm not even going to reply to that." Snape said in a long-suffering way.

"Funny. I've been taking that approach more and more myself here lately." Virginia said, a very Slytherin-like smirk dancing across her lips.

"So you've noticed there's something…_off _about them, too?" Snape asked, his voice full of mild curiosity.

"Oh yes, of course." Virginia replied nonchalantly. "But as they're quite amusing in the throes of lunacy, I've let it slide."

"Je faire croire ils sant joignant en haut contre nous." Draco commented dryly to Blaise, who sneered mockingly in agreement. ((I do believe they're teaming up against us.))

"Oui, mais quel mal pouvoir deux bête farceur causer?" Blaise questioned with all seriousness. ((Yes, but what harm could two brainless fools cause?))

"_Excuse me_?" Snape hissed venomously, turning to face them.

"Well, that's our cue." Draco said, rising from the floor smoothly.

Blaise took the hand up he offered, and they moved for the door before Snape could hex them. Virginia rose, giggling at the Potion Master's expression. She quelled her mounting laughter and gave Snape a sneering curtsy before joining her boyfriends. They were silent on their short walk to the Slytherin dormitories. The Slytherins, of course, all knew about them. How could they not, after that first night? By the time she'd left, nearly the entire House had been sitting avidly in the common room.

But none of them had said a word to the rest of the school for four main reasons. One: That's just how Slytherin worked. They were a tightly-knit faction, and had discovered long ago that the best bet for self-preservation was group-preservation. Two: Snape had warned them to keep their mouths shut, although they probably wouldn't have mentioned it to an outsider anyway. Three: The Slytherins might not fear Draco and Blaise like others do, mostly because they know them and are under their protection, but they're not stupid, nor do they have death wishes.

But the main reason, as Virginia had pieced together in the last two months within their House, was that the Slytherins adored them. It had shocked her at first, when she had realized they followed them out of affection more than fear. They were the pride of their House, and they looked after their own fiercely. In return, their Housemates did the same for them, although it wasn't really necessary. She had assumed the majority of the Slytherins were as cold and unapproachable as they had always seemed to be, and they usually were if it was anyone from another House. She had also assumed most of them wished to be Death Eaters.

She had, in fact, been wrong on both accounts. Once Draco and Blaise had accepted her, so had they. Some of them still looked at her strangely from time to time, but most had welcomed her into their circle, especially after hearing that she would have been in Slytherin if the Hat had had its way. And the one thing that had made her really like them, that was probably nothing but a blotch in their minds but meant everything to her, was that when the Chamber of Secrets had been mentioned, they hadn't shied away and treated her like glass or something contagious. They'd just _grinned_.

And then proceeded to wring out every last detail, of course. But it hadn't felt strange talking about it, not like she had thought it would be. She never had before, either. Talked about it, that is. Her family avoided the issue like the plague, even though it hadn't 'traumatized' her as they all thought it had. It had been frightening, yes. And yes, it had probably warped her mind a bit. But she had accepted it and moved on. It was everyone else that had still seemed screwed up about it. But the Slytherins? Never. They found it grandly amusing, especially since it was a _Gryffindor_ who had opened the Chamber.

That had been a very...entertaining night, altogether. They'd talked about it for hours, all of the upper-years lounging around the common room, laughing at numerous 'Voldie' jokes and eating neon-purple mushrooms that Pansy had quite miraculously produced from nowhere in the middle of the discussion that had taken place after Virginia had finished her story. She had never seen _mushrooms_ as midnight snacks before, but hadn't complained, although she had wondered over the color. They'd tasted like candy though, and she'd had six or seven before Draco had seen what she was eating.

She remembered his eyes widening before he'd poked Blaise in the ribs hurriedly. Blaise had followed his half-horrified, half-seriously amused line of sight, and choked on the wine he'd been drinking. She'd known something was up when he'd asked '_How many has she had?'_, and then started laughing when one of the sixth years had answered him. Draco had whistled, saying _'Well, you're definitely not going anywhere tonight, Virginia. Those could keep a centaur tripping balls for hours.' _And then everything had been a blur of green, silver, black, blue, fire, voices and her own laughter making her head feel light and carefree.

Her boyfriends' Housemates had been much more open around her after that (well, as open as a Slytherin ever is with anyone besides those they love). It had been a few nights later when she'd discovered their _real_ view on Voldemort, all joking aside. The majority of them agreed with the original standpoints for his cause, such as pureblood supremacy and disliking mudbloods and muggles, but they also agreed that he was completely deranged. Mass slaughter wasn't what they were looking for to solve the issue. After all, if they exterminated the mudbloods and muggleborns, what would keep their family businesses running smoothly? They certainly didn't want to lose their wealth in the bargain.

And above all, they were proud children and young adults from old, proud families. They would bow to _no one_, especially not some upstart _muggleborn_. Many of their parents didn't even agree with Voldemort anymore, although some were so power-hungry they'd nearly gone mad with it themselves. Much, apparently, like Lucius and Jeran had, although they weren't spoken of in more than whispers, and never around Draco or Blaise. And most importantly (or so the Slytherins claimed) was that they refused to have some bloody tacky skull burned into their skin for eternity. So no, they didn't want to be Death Eaters. Apparently, being rich, powerful, spoiled and vain was quite enough for them without a nasty war. Not that surprising, really.

"Sang être le vivant rivière." Draco's silky drawl cut through Virginia's thoughts. The stones before them pulled back, phantom blood oozing down the wall, and they stepped into the crowded common room. ((Blood is the living river))

"Over here!" Pansy called from the one of the secluded nooks that were scattered around the room.

They made their way to where she was sitting on a divan with Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent, saying hello to the Slytherins who hailed them on their way. Two other seventh years, Anton McGregor, who was tall and dark-haired, and Melody Arcdine, a striking brunette with green eyes almost as vibrant as Harry's, were sitting to their left in black-cushioned chairs. Draco and Blaise sunk onto the remaining divan, pulling her down between them. Goblets of wine (which the Slytherins seemed to have an absurd amount of) were handed to them, and Virginia took hers gratefully.

"So..." Pansy started speculatively. "How'd your little rendezvous go?" She asked, and Virginia noticed other Slytherins drawing close to them, as usual. They told them the basic gist of what had happened with the Gryffindors, and by the end, the Slytherins all seemed to have identical, malicious smirks plastered on their faces.

"Let them try." Said a sixth year witch, almost echoing Draco's earlier words. "They will regret it."

"Yes." Another agreed. "Who on earth jabs at a sleeping snake with a stick?"

"_Gryffindors_." A handful of them chorused at once, and laughter broke out around the group that was by now quite large. None of them looked to Virginia, because they knew by now that she would take no offense.

"Who do you think will try first?" Melody questioned after their chuckling subsided.

"I would have said Virginia's brother, but he's probably too scared of her to try!" Crabbe exclaimed, and Virginia threw one of the smaller cushions at his head.

He caught it easily, looking smug, before it burst into flames in his hands. He yelped, tossing it in the air and causing burnt feathers and singed material to cover his hair and robes. He looked shocked, and stared at her with wide eyes. A snicker broke the silence, and soon Draco and Blaise were laughing hysterically, both at his stunned look and at the trick she'd just pulled. The Slytherins, being Slytherins, caught on very quickly to what had happened, and soon the whole room was cracking up. Virginia felt quite pleased with herself, and let it show. It was how you did things in Slytherin. Being falsely modest would only get you ostracized, insulted and branded a fake. And, as they say, when in Rome...

"You should have seen your _face_!" Pansy teased, sneering at Crabbe, who had started laughing himself after a moment. "You looked like a Dementor had just leaped out at you!"

"Shut up, Pansy." Crabbe grumbled, ruining the effect by laughing again.

"That was _hilarious_." Draco stated simply, falling back against the cushions. His eyes were bright and sparkling, reminding her of moonlight shining through thick, silver clouds. His eyes met hers and a chill ran down her spine, flooding her brain with remembered nights of passion and ecstasy, of blood and completeness. A hand ran up her side from behind, right before a sensual voice whispered in her ear, causing her whole body to tremble.

"Vouloir vous venir en haut avec nous?" Blaise's tone and his warm breath on her skin nearly had her moaning aloud. Her eyes still hadn't left Draco's, and the same invitation lay inside them that lay inside Blaise's velvet-coated words. ((Will you come up with us?))

"Oui." She breathed out in French, knowing that it would please them. It did. ((Yes))

She could feel Blaise's lips curl into a smile on her neck, where he had moved them in order to place a kiss upon her exposed skin, and she could see Draco's eyes light up with pleasure and a dark, expectant hunger that she couldn't help responding to. She held out her hand to him, and snow white fingers soon intertwined with her own. They stood as one, and her other hand snatched onto a handful of Blaise's expensive, tailored robes. The other Slytherins weren't surprised at their sudden departure, as that's how most of their nights ended, this one a just a little earlier than usual.

As soon as they entered their room, they fell onto one of the giant cushions, mouths and hands moving everywhere. Her robe was gone in seconds, fingers that chilled and charged her skin running all over her and pulling breathless moans from her throat. Draco's frosty lips on hers just made her hotter, and Blaise's electric mouth sucking and nibbling in all the right spots had made it impossible to form a coherent thought. After a whispered plea from her, two sets of identical fangs sunk into her flesh, ripping screams from her throat as her world erupted into raptured bliss.

Wave after wave of excruciating pleasure swamped her senses until she was drowning it, drowning in _them_, and she surrendered freely. In these moments, it was as if they held her very soul in their grasps, and she honestly couldn't bring herself to care as long as whatever she became was molded by their hands. And in their own way, they surrendered to her, too; opening their minds to her as she opened hers for them. And from that came the completeness, the overwhelming sense of being _one. _As the ecstasy peaked and sensations exploded throughout them, Virginia Weasley was very sure of one thing.

_Nothing_ would take them from her, or her from them.

………………………………………………………………..

Please Review! I do have a plot set out for this story, but I won't continue posting it here unless people are at least reading it. There's no point in it just taking up space. So, if you like it, hate it, whatever, please tell me!


	4. Different Days Are Dawning

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right? Oh, and a sincere 'thank you' to everyone who reviewed!

Plus, I got the idea for their House ties from the movies, so if anyone else has done something similar before, I'm sorry! It was accidental, I just liked the idea.

French translations: ((example))

WARNING: Tiny bit of Harry bashing in this chapter and maybe the next, but it's necessary for the scene I wanted, and I promise that everyone will forgive him (with the exception being the Slytherins, of course). Eventually. Okay, probably soon. Maybe. Or perhaps I'll just stake him on the Quidditch pitch and set him on fire. (That was a _joke_, for all you Harry-fanatics out there. So no death threats, please.) On to the story! Please review!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"I just don't get it." Harry said out of nowhere while the trio and Lauren were sitting in the common room. The trio was still slightly dazed from their earlier meeting with the Slytherin Princes and Ginny, which they had filled Lauren in on since she'd had Divination, a class that almost everyone else had dropped. "I mean, we've known for nearly two months, and kept our promises not to tell anyone, but it still doesn't make any sense. I think I'm more confused now then I was before."

"I don't see what's so hard to grasp about it, Harry." Hermione said with a sigh.

"Everything!" He replied indignantly. "First off, I mean, Draco and Blaise? Where did _that_ come from?" He asked.

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either." Ron agreed, shaking his head, and Hermione and Lauren could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief.

"What?" Hermione finally questioned, seriously disturbed by her friend's utter lack of comprehension. With Harry, it was understandable. After all, he hadn't even known that kind of thing was commonplace here until a few hours ago. But Ron had understood perfectly his entire life, and the fact that he seemingly hadn't noticed Draco and Blaise's attitude towards each other was...disturbing. "What on earth are you talking about, Ronald Weasley? Do you _have_ eyes?"

"Of course I do!" He snapped, irritated. "But what does that have to do with it?" He asked, and Harry nodded. Once again, Lauren and Hermione could only stare for a moment, before Lauren gently broke the news to them.

"Ron, Harry, try to follow me here._ Everyone_, and I do mean _everyone_, even the first years, know that Draco and Blaise have only had eyes for each other for years." Ron and Harry looked to Hermione for confirmation.

"It's true." Hermione said. "The only reason I was surprised when Pansy and Goyle said something that day was because it's never been officially confirmed. But _honestly_, you never once..." She trailed off, the inquiry hanging in the air.

"No!" Harry burst out, and then seemed to feel the need to justify his response. "I mean, I know you said that guys getting with other guys is nothing new to our world, but _them_? Don't they need heirs or some-" He was cut off by Ron yelping and proceeding to turn an alarming shade of green.

"I'll kill them! My baby sister is _not_ going to carry Malfoy and Zabini spawn!" He yelled, causing half of the other Gryffindors in the commons to turn, staring, and Hermione and Lauren to choke. Hermione had already had to avoid enough questions from the Gryffindors about why the hell Ginny had left with the Slytherins. She really didn't need more at the moment. Lauren glared at them and they turned back to their work reluctantly.

"_Ron_!" Hermione finally exclaimed. "You say it like you really think they're demons or some such nonsense!"

"They _are_!" Ron argued, his face going from green to red in seconds.

"They are _not_!" Hermione said furiously, fully sick of this general attitude towards the two Slytherins. "I told you before, just like I told the others. _They are not demons_. Honestly! And it's _Ginny's_ decision what she does with her life! If you want to risk losing your friendship with her because you're too stubborn to see the obvious, then so be it! But I won't!" The boys seemed momentarily astonished by her little outburst.

"B-But, Hermione..." Ron started. "What's so 'obvious'? 'Cause you lost me." Hermione felt like shrieking. How could _anyone_ be as dense as these two?

"Let me spell it out to you." Hermione said slowly, as though speaking to a child. "They. Are. In. Love. As in Draco loves Blaise and Ginny, Blaise loves Draco and Ginny, and Ginny loves Blaise and Draco. It's not hard. Is there anything else about the situation that you're missing? It seems pretty self-explanatory to me." Ron had gone pale as a sheet at the word 'love', and looked on the verge of fainting.

"She can't." He squeaked. "She can't love two _monsters_! They murdered their own fathers, for the love of Circe! They can't be trusted!" No one said anything for a long moment.

"I didn't say they could be trusted, Ron." Hermione haltingly agreed after a few minutes of silence. "I just said that she loves them, and I believe they love her, too. Beyond that..." She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't like not knowing what was going on, but she seriously doubted that anyone knew the answer to that question at the moment.

"That's not good enough!" Ron said, his voice full of heat as he leaned forward in his chair. "I have to know they won't hurt her, don't you see that? They're going to go public with this, and my family is going to kill me for letting this happen! The only girl in the family seduced away by Dark wizards! Twice!" He added, before he could think about it. Harry's eyes widened and Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth. Even Lauren looked taken aback.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione's voice came out muffled from behind her fingers. She lowered her hand slowly. "How could you _say _that?" Ron had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Sorry." He mumbled. "But really! You know what I mean, don't say you don't! I'm going to get Howlers everyday after this hits the papers!"

"Then why don't you write your mum and let her find out from you first?" She questioned. Ron shook his head.

"I promised Ginny I wouldn't." He didn't sound very pleased about it.

"Well," Lauren said, clasping Ron's shoulder with one hand, "I guess the only thing to do is wish you luck." Ron scowled and pushed her hand away.

"Funny. This isn't a joke! What if they hurt her? What if she's under the Imperius Curse? What if they _kill_ her?" He asked, his voice growing more frantic with every idea that popped into his head. The two girls sighed.

"Ron." Hermione said sharply, drawing his attention back to her. "She's not under the Imperius Curse, for the love of Merlin! Why can't you just accept her decision on this?"

"Don't tell me you're actually _pleased _about this, Hermione!"

"Well, if it helps Inter-House relations..."

"_What_?!? How can you even _think_ that?" He demanded.

"Oh, come on, Ron! What are you going to do about it anyway? Huh?" She asked, her temper flaring. She immediately regretted it, however, when she saw that daring, stubborn, _Weasley _look settle over his features.

"Well, if they can't, or won't, prove to me that they care for her, then we'll duel." He said calmly, and Hermione knew her mouth was hanging as far open as Lauren's was.

"You...You can't!" She finally spluttered. He shook his head.

"I'll have to. I'm the only male Weasley here. I have to look after her virtue." He said with conviction, and Hermione spluttered once again, except this time with laughter.

"'Her 'v_irtue_'?" Hermione mocked. "That's rich! Honestly, Ron. This isn't the Dark Ages, and sixteen is the age of consent. Or had you forgotten?" He turned red to the tips of his ears.

"Oh gods...Y-You don't think sh-she's..." He trailed of in misery, burying his face in his hands.

"It's highly probable, Ron." Hermione replied coolly. "Ginny's one of the prettiest girls in her year, hell, in the whole school. I'm just saying it wouldn't surprise me, especially since she's found two people that really care about her."

"Bollocks." Ron mumbled. "Slytherins only care about themselves." He lifted his head and plastered a thoughtful expression on his face. "Oh, and money and power. Yep, that's about it."

"You don't know that." Hermione protested tiredly. She had seen the emotions flickering in the Slytherins' eyes when they'd looked at Ginny earlier, just as she'd seen Ginny's own, which were much easier to read. The only reason she'd gleaned anything at all from Blaise and Draco was because she'd been looking hard for it and had gotten lucky right before they'd thrown up Elemental shields to get away from her Housemates.

"Sure I do, 'Mione. They're all soulless, evil bastards, remember?"

"Ron! Even _you_ can't believe that! Just because they're Slytherins doesn't automatically make them horrid!"

"Maybe not," Ron spat back. "But being a Malfoy and a Zabini does!"

"Argh!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air and then stood hurriedly, grabbing her books. "You-" She started, but was too mad to form words. She took a deep breath and tried again. "You are the most immature _boy_ I know." She said and stormed off to her room, leaving Ron gaping.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione woke early the next morning, the events of the previous day rushing back. She sighed, and went to take a quick shower. The cold water fully woke her and she was done in minutes. She went back to into her room and dug through her wardrobe, finally pulling out some faded jeans and a t-shirt. She pulled them on quickly and threw her robe over her head. She grabbed her Head Girl badge off the nightstand and pinned it on her robes before snatching up her bag and heading down to the common room. She took a seat by the fire and started reading as the other Gryffindors began stumbling downstairs, Lauren falling next to her bonelessly. Harry and Ron were two of the last to come down and she rolled her eyes at their foggy, sleep-befuddled expressions.

"You two are the laziest cretins on the planet, you do know that, right?" She asked, and they grunted in response. Rolling her eyes again, she dragged them through the portrait hole.

"So pushy, 'Mione." Ron mumbled sleepily, bumping into a suit of armor and nearly knocking it over. The armor immediately started insulting him, and they rushed past before it could throw the vase it was waving at them threateningly. They were out of breath when they reached the Great Hall, and Ron suddenly moaned as they walked through the doors.

"Oh gods, it's _today_, isn't it?" He questioned mournfully, and they didn't have to ask what he meant.

"Yes, Ron. Unless they changed their minds." She replied calmly, leading him to the table. For the first time she could remember, Ron didn't touch a bite of food, just sat there looking vaguely ill. The Great Hall filled rapidly, the students laughing and chattering, although with their voices quite a bit lower than they would be at lunch and dinner. Many of them were still half asleep and being drug in by their Housemates, much as she had drug in Ron. At least Harry had fully woken up when the suit of armor had nearly attacked them.

"You notice anything funny?" Lauren asked after a while. Hermione looked around and it clicked.

"Where are the Slytherins?" She asked, seeing the total lack of even a single student with green-trimmed robes.

"What?" Ron asked, looking up right as the doors opened again.

It was almost comical the way that complete and total silence fell as the Slytherins entered, Draco, Blaise and Ginny at the front. Both Draco and Blaise had an arm around her, whispering something to her as they completely ignored their peers and headed for their table, the rest of their House following with smug smirks on their faces. Metal clattered against wood and stone all around the hall as silverware and goblets fell out of the students' suddenly nerve-less fingers. Since Hermione had been prepared, she had time to study the others' reactions. Open, gaping mouths seemed to be a common affliction as they stared in shocked disbelief at the group making its way to the Slytherin table, particularly at the three leading figures.

They were dressed in black school robes; Ginny's silk and scarlet, Draco and Blaise's green and velvet. The only things out of place were their House ties. They had switched; an emerald and silver one hung at her throat, blood-red and gold at theirs. Ginny smiled over at Hermione, Lauren, Harry and Ron, giving them a small wave as she reached the Slytherin table. Draco and Blaise followed her gaze, their noses crinkling in automatic distaste when they saw who she was looking at. Hermione tried not to be offended at their look of utter revulsion, but it was hard. They reached the Slytherin table, and when Ginny actually sat down, gasps flew around the Hall, the first noise since they'd entered.

She was the first Gryffindor to ever sit at Slytherin's table, and her scarlet hair and red-trimmed robes stood out vibrantly among all of the green, silver and black. Blaise and Draco sat on either side of her, and both kissed a porcelain cheek before leveling poisonous glares on the gawking students. Eyes dropped immediately and the noise began to rise as students broke out of their stupor. The Ravenclaws were muttering to themselves, angry that something so interesting had gone on that they didn't know about; the Hufflepuffs were nearly in tears over Draco and Blaise being officially taken; and the Gryffindors were still stunned into absolute silence, their questions from yesterday finally answered. Everyone kept glancing at the trio, especially at Ron, wondering why he hadn't exploded at the sight of his sister with Slytherin's Princes.

And since he couldn't do just that, he had decided to pout and curse viciously.

"Goddamn stupid Slytherins. I _hate_ Slytherins. Narcissistic bastards, the lot of them. And the _Hufflepuffs_! Could they be more pathetic mooning over them? Bloody fucking poufs." Ron spat angrily, his words carrying down the silent Gryffindor table.

"_Ron_." Hermione hissed, seeing quite a few Hufflepuffs glaring at them. "Shut _up_."

"Why!?" He snapped, and Hermione sighed when she realized he was reaching the end of his infamously short fuse. "I can't stop her from what you and she both say, but I can damn well still speak my mind about it! And do you know what I think? I think its bloody bul-" Hermione interrupted him unintentionally, as she hadn't even been listening after the initial outburst.

"What are they doing?" She asked, looking over at the Slytherins.

Ron, who looked nearly apoplectic with rage for her cutting him off, glanced over with furious eyes. Said furious eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously, as did Harry's. The upper year Slytherins and Ginny were huddled together over something Draco and Blaise were holding, laughing deviously. Ron and Harry, of course, were two of those people who became very paranoid whenever a Slytherin was cheerful, and a group of them was even worse in their opinion. Hermione could see them fingering their wands and felt like whacking them both upside the head with her History of Magic book. Deciding to ignore them, she turned back to the Slytherins, who by now were drawing more than just the trio's curiosity with the pleased, shit-eating smirks they were donning.

She saw Blaise and Draco begin to chant under their breaths, and saw the Slytherins and Ginny watching them with confident, expectant eyes. But hadn't it always been that way? She'd never really seen the Slytherins question or doubt anything their 'Princes' did. They'd been called that, Slytherin's Princes that is, since their fifth year. And when they'd come back for their sixth year, everyone had started calling them the Dark Prince and the Ice Prince. When she'd heard them called that on the train the first day of that year, she'd wondered at it. When she'd seen them, though, it had made perfect sense. Nearly every picture they'd been in at the time had had them covered in gore, so she hadn't really noticed how much they'd changed when she'd seen them plastered all over the Daily Prophet.

Gone were the boys of barely three months before. They had seemed huge, even though they were both just at six feet and as lithe as jungle cats. Then she'd realized it was just the _feel_ about them that made them seem that way. The darkness that had always been in their eyes had intensified and something feral seemed to be lurking just under the surface, looking out at you with an almost alien, primordial intelligence. Just a glance from those eyes had been enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck, and she had hurried away before they'd had an opportunity to really notice her. She'd later reflected that the new titles fit them perfectly. Blaise was definitely dark, the only pale thing about him being his alabaster skin. And Draco was definitely ice, with his silver hair, frosty eyes and snow white complexion.

And now, looking across the Hall at them, she couldn't think of anyone who would look more fitting or more at home between them than Ginny did. After all, what could be better at heating cold hearts than fire? Hermione was about to say something to Lauren when the two Slytherins stopped, blew on whatever they were holding, and tossed their hands up. Two ebony globes sailed upwards, but instead of dropping back down on their heads, there was a flash of silver light and the balls blew outwards like small atom bombs. A few students screamed, but Hermione wasn't paying attention. Because the sparks of silver light were growing, twisting, and forming into..._butterflies_? But, as the creatures began multiplying and flying around the room, she realized that they were only part butterfly.

The bodies of the little creatures ranged from green to silver to black to scarlet, and they were quite obviously tiny dragons. The wings, though, those were a butterfly's wings. Resembling flexible, stained glass windows, their wings were the three colors their bodies were not. They appeared to leave trails of glitter behind them, and the air was soon shimmering, as were the students. The little dragons flew gracefully, not the bobbing flight pattern butterflies usually used, but the more eagle-like soaring of their larger kindred. Then, almost like a school of fish, they turned as one and descended on the students, the House tables, and even on the Professors.

A tiny silver one landed on Hermione's wrist, it's black, green and scarlet wings fanning the air softly behind it. It stared up at her with wide, adorable eyes and she fell in love almost instantly. She heard the first chuckles and giggles begin to break out, and then Dumbledore let out peals of delighted laughter as three of them took up residence in his beard. Her little dragon butted its head into her hand, nuzzling against her palm. She pulled it close, cooing, and scratched the scales under its neck. It's body, tail included, was about half the length of her quill. She looked up, and saw people all over the Hall petting the little creatures, utterly unable to resist their charms.

Even Ron and Harry were trying and failing to push the little creatures away, but their resolve broke when the two trying to get their attention mewled softly and let their wings droop. Everyone was almost completely covered in the glittery dust, but the tiny dragons seemed to have stopped shedding it, or however it was that they'd been producing it. For all she knew it could have been part of the spell. Thinking of that, her head snapped up. What spell had it been? She was deathly curious about it, as it was a brilliant work of magic and she'd never heard of anything like it before. The Slytherins were petting their own dragons, looking decidedly smug and superior as they surveyed their handiwork.

She glanced up at Snape and nearly choked, elbowing Harry, who was laughing at the little scarlet dragon that had attached itself upside down to his sleeve. He looked up at her prodding and began laughing even harder. It seemed that an entire little swarm had taken a liking to Snape, as ten or eleven of them were fawning over him. Some flew lazily around his head, some were lounged about on his plate, three had dug claws into his robes and one was twisted in his chin-length hair. The scowl on his face could have broken china, and the glare he had fixed on Blaise and Draco would have had any sensible person already running for the hills.

"How did they do this?" Harry asked after he'd quit laughing. One of the dragons a few feet from them that had been drinking with its entire head in one of the goblets fell out, landing on shaky feet. It beat its wings wobbly, then stumbled, spun around in four circles, crashed into a dish of toast, and lay still.

"Oh no! Is it-?" Lauren asked, but the dragon burped, a tiny cloud of smoke rising from its mouth and leaving a black streak on the toast. It stood, promptly pranced back up to the goblet of pumpkin juice, and then climbed unsteadily into it, this time apparently deciding to go for a full-body swim. They stared.

"Well." Harry said after a moment. "It was almost like it was drunk, or something."

"Didn't you hear?" One of the Hufflepuff girls asked, having heard Harry's statement. "One of the Slytherins told a Ravenclaw that Draco and Blaise invented this spell. It only lasts for a day unless you perform a sticking charm on the cute little things. Then you can keep them forever! And pumpkin juice, avocados, chocolate and soap will get them high, so watch what they get into! On the weekdays, anyway." She said as an afterthought, and turned back around, giggling excitedly with her friends.

"Did she really just say that soap will get them high?" Ron asked, trying to keep a scowl on his face as the little black dragon that had chosen him rolled through the scrambled eggs he'd never eaten.

"And avocados and pumpkin juice and chocolate." Harry said with a lop-sided grin.

"Oh gods, Harry, be careful!" Ron said, shaking his head emphatically.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised, and looked around.

"It's their plan! Soften us up with these little buggers and-OW!" He yelped as a glob of scrambled egg hit him in the eye. Enraged, he looked around, glaring, only for his eyes to land on the dragon in front of him. When it saw it had his attention, it stuck its nose in the air, huffed, purposely flicked a piece of egg off its wing and turned its back on him. Ron's mouth dropped and Hermione, Lauren and Harry burst into hysterical fits of giggles.

"Well, well, Weasley got punked by a dragon. How...appropriate." Blaise's velvety, drawling voice came from behind them, and the trio spun around to see him with Draco, Ginny, a few other Slytherins and a small cloud of the swooping, diving little creatures.

"_Blaise_." Ginny hissed, reminding Hermione of herself earlier with Ron. Blaise shrugged, obviously satisfied with the new shade of red he had caused Ron to turn and with the angry glint in Harry's emerald eyes. Ginny had told her a few weeks ago that it was almost a game for him and Draco to try and see just how many variations of the color they could goad Ron into, and what new levels of rage they could provoke in Harry. Hermione had actually laughed before clamping a hand over her mouth.

"What the hell do you want?" Ron growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Draco's eyes immediately went to his white-knuckled grip on the bench, and he smirked.

"Oh, nothing, Weasley. Just dropping by to chit-chat about the weather." Draco said, his words practically dripping sarcasm. "_Honestly_. Why the fuck do you think we're here? Your sister wanted to talk to you." He said scathingly, and Hermione noticed that someone had braided his hair since they'd first come in.

It was just in the front on the sides, to keep his hair out of his eyes, but the braids themselves were horribly intricate and beautiful, quite a bit like him. Her eyes trailed over sculpted marble cheekbones and full lips, almost unintentionally drinking in the chilling beauty he presented. She didn't even know she was staring until a small movement caught her attention. She looked over and into Blaise's navy eyes, realized what she'd been doing, and blushed. He was looking at her strangely, as if he could see right through her, and there was a vague, yet startlingly clear threat in that piercing gaze. She had a wild thought about asking him how to do the braids, how to do _anything_, just to get those judging, disturbing eyes off of her, when he looked away and she could breathe again.

"But anyway," Ginny was saying, "I just wanted you to know so you didn't worry when you couldn't find me tomorrow, and I knew you weren't going to Hogsmeade this time. But we want to sort of celebrate, you know?"

"Hmph." Ron grumbled. "What restaurant are you going to?" He asked, in full overprotective-older-brother mode. Ginny's eyes skittered away from his almost nervously.

"The Silver Swan." She finally said, and Ron gaped before snapping his mouth shut and narrowing his eyes. Hermione knew it was the most expensive restaurant in Hogsmeade, and Ron always made derisive comments whenever they passed it. Ginny was also undoubtedly aware of that fact.

"Well, I guess I can't exactly stop you, can I?" He asked, standing, his voice rising and causing people to stop and stare. It was amazing, really, his easy ability to cause a scene. Harry stood with him, lending his support. "After all, you just had to come out with this...this...disgusting bit of filth you call a relationship, didn't you?" He was almost yelling by the end and Ginny stepped forward, pushing him back into the table. Hard.

"You listen to me, damn it." She said in a low, deadly voice. "If you have a fucking problem, you tell me about it later. I've done my dramatic skit for the day and don't plan to do another just so I can support your pathetically small, little black and white views on everything. So, in ten or less words, do you have another dire complaint that needs vocalizing this very bloody minute?" Ron looked taken aback, before an angry flush crept up his neck.

"Fuck you, Ginny."

"Show your sister some respect, Weasel." Draco said, his voice silky and dangerous. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), Harry rose to the unspoken challenge before Ron could respond. Malfoy had always been able to push Harry's buttons in a way that no one else could.

"Sod off, Malfoy." He spat, his eyes hard and glinting. A slow, malicious smirk spread across Draco's lips, and Hermione felt a sudden sense of dread.

Because Draco looked like a cat who'd just found the mouse, but wanted to play with it a little bit first. And she was sure, in that moment, that Harry couldn't win in a game of sly words and trickery with Draco Malfoy. And as Draco's eyes dropped to half-mast, traveling over Harry's form slowly, as his voice became sensual poison, that belief was reinforced. Because if Harry stood little chance with sly words and trickery, he stood absolutely no chance with sly words and slippery, Slytherin seduction. Draco, however, had no problems with any of the above. Harry seemed enthralled at whatever he saw in the silver eyes that met his, and Draco glided closer. He lifted a slender hand to Harry's face, pausing just enough for Harry to refuse. But Harry didn't, he was shaking like a leaf, and Draco brushed a lock of hair from his eyes.

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice a caressing purr. Harry didn't answer at first and Hermione almost stepped in because there was something strange her friend's eyes and...Why hadn't he pushed Draco away? But Harry did answer.

"W-What?" He asked, and she saw the flash of self-contempt he felt for himself because his voice had come out shaky.

"I think..." Draco leaned in, his lips almost brushing Harry's before he pulled back abruptly. "That you're a very sad, very confused little shit." He then looked pointedly down. "And you might want to take care of that, Potter."

Hermione almost died when her eyes lowered involuntarily. She just couldn't _believe_ it at first. Ginny's shocked gasp, Blaise's venomous hiss and the Slytherins' hysterical attack of mirth didn't help. Harry had...Well, it wasn't too difficult to figure out what was ailing Harry. Or maybe she should say it wasn't too _hard_. Except that it was. Ron, surprisingly, got his wits about him first, and while looking very, very disturbed, he cast a concealing charm. No one but Ron, Hermione, Lauren, Ginny and the Slytherins had heard Draco's last comment or seen what the fuss was about, since the Slytherins had formed a semi-circle around them as soon as they'd seen their Ice Prince's eyes droop, but this seemed to be the last straw for Harry. He snapped out of the weird almost-trance he'd been in and the fury came back tenfold as he pushed the Slytherins closest to him away, breaking their half-circle. They parted almost expectantly, aware that he was about to blow up and obviously wanting the entire school to see him when he lost it. The next words out of his mouth were crude and vulgar; were words he would be apologizing numerous times to various people for; and were words which he didn't even really mean.

"You're one to talk, you bloody queer!" Words born of hate. "You had the balls to come out about her, right?" Words born of anger. "So why don't you two faggots come out about the other shit then, huh?" Words born of lust. "You're both fucking ashamed, aren't you?" Words born of confusion. There were gasps and outraged cries from the surrounding students, who couldn't believe _anyone_, especially the Boy Who Lived, would say such things, even to people he hated. Draco and Blaise turned charged, frosty eyes on him, and the loathing and disgust they regarded him with was almost tangible.

"Ashamed?" Blaise scoffed. "Have you _seen_ him?" He asked, gesturing to Draco. "Oh yes, I suppose you have. But you don't even know the half of it." Seconds later, Blaise's lips met Draco's in a furious, passionate kiss that almost shocked the student body as badly as their earlier entrance had. Those closest to them would later swear that they'd seen ice crystals form in their hair and small wisps of electricity dance over their lips before they were pulled away from each other by an indignant McGonagall and a dragon-coated Snape.

"Was that a good enough admission?" Blaise called through swollen lips as Snape led them away, muttering to himself.

"Or would you just like to come watch us shag later?" Draco added, lifting a platinum eyebrow suggestively.

McGonagall's mouth tightened impossibly, while the Slytherins and Ginny started snickering uncontrollably. It caught on like wildfire, spreading to the other Houses as Harry became nearly purple with embarrassment and the realization of what he'd said. More than a few hostile glares were aimed on him, the nearest from Seamus, Dean and Lavender. Draco and Blaise disappeared with the Professors, McGonagall's '_That's no way for the Head Boy and a Prefect to behave_!' echoing back to them through the laughter. Ron looked around, noticing the glares, and turned to Hermione just as Ginny and the other Slytherins who had been with them left, throwing last, withering looks at both him and Harry as they passed.

"Err, Harry?"

"What, Ron?" Harry asked in a choked voice as he sat back down miserably.

"I think you might want to apologize now. At least to the other Gryffindors. Because I'm pretty sure they might start stoning you here in a minute."

"With reason." Hermione growled, surprising both of them. Harry looked around him nervously, then at her nervously, before hastily lowering his eyes to the table. He seemed to feel the need to share the misery, however, and looked back up, this time at Ron.

"Yeah, well, at least my sister's not sleeping with the next Dark Lords." He mumbled sullenly, and Ron once more showed his odd ability to change colors at the drop of a hat, except this time he went from pink to pale in record time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

(A/N: Remember, Ginny is Virginia when it's not one of the trio's P.O.V.'s!)

As soon as they left the teacher's lounge and turned the corner, both Draco and Blaise had to lean up against the wall as the laughter they'd been suppressing bubbled out. Honestly, the Weasel and Potter had always been easy to get a rise out of, but even Draco hadn't expected the Boy Wonder to lose it like that. Talk about a way to get yourself ostracized. He'd seen the conflicting emotions in Potter's eyes, and had seen them the day before when his and Blaise's relationship had been brought up during their little 'meeting'. He'd just made it so _easy_ that Draco hadn't been able to help himself. And it had seemed an absolutely delightful way to embarrass the bloody fuck out of him. Which it had. Which was just _excellent_.

"Oh gods." Blaise said after a minute, leaning into him. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to look menacing when you pointed out his 'problem'? I'd wanted to laugh at his dumbstruck expression since you first approached him, but _that_ nearly killed me."

"_You _had a hard time?" Draco asked incredulously, cocking an eyebrow. "_I_ had to look at _Potter _as though he were actually _attractive_. I still feel ill." He said, shuddering as they began walking slowly down the hall.

"However did you manage, O Mighty One?" Blaise asked sarcastically as their fingers intertwined.

"Oh, it was nothing, really." Draco replied nonchalantly. "I just thought about the time we used that sight shield charm in the Entrance Hall and-"

"_Shut up_!" Blaise said, stopping and clamping an elegant hand over Draco's mouth. His blue eyes were shining with mirth; the thin, black streaks that shot through the irises growing darker, and Draco barely even heard his next words. "We're still right by the teacher's lounge! _Honestly_, Draco!" Then a few seconds later, "Draco? Hello? Still with me here?"

"Um-hmm." Draco replied, utterly unable to do anything but thank every god he could name that this wasn't a dream and that the divine, delectable creature in front of him really was his.

"Are you alright, mon âme?" Blaise asked, his hand falling away. ((my soul))

Draco came back to reality, and let Blaise see exactly what he'd been thinking. A smirk uncoiled across those achingly familiar lips, and all thoughts of waiting to kiss him until they had gotten back to their room vanished. Their lips met halfway and Draco gave everything he was into it. It was like that every time, as if he couldn't help but bare his soul to the one who had claws sunk so deeply into it that it was everything-but-officially his already. Blaise surrendered the same as he did; it wasn't a game of submission and dominance with them, it never had been. Both yielded freely to the other as they always had, and whatever came afterwards was just lust and passion, epinephrine and pheromones.

Kissing Blaise was like coming home, and yet at the same time being flung off the planet and into an entirely different galaxy. Kissing Blaise anytime was like kissing Blaise for the first time all over again, like having his heart deliciously devoured by way of his mouth. His blood had been replaced with liquid lightning that pooled in his soul, and he could feel himself thawing under Blaise's knowing touch. He deliberately ran his tongue over one of his lover's suddenly sharp canines, and their first shared taste of the sweet, life-giving elixir turned the kiss hungry, ravenous, demanding, desperate. Whistles and cat-calls made them reluctantly part, turning to see Virginia, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Anton leering and laughing.

"You two get off on some odd things, do you know that?" Pansy asked, her eyebrow arched as they all started walking towards the dungeons.

"Whatever do you mean, darling?" Blaise asked, licking his lips clean of any lingering crimson fluid. She rolled her eyes.

"I mean that one of your odd little kinks is publicly humiliating people and getting horny while doing it. You're both fucked in the head if you ask me."

"Yes." Anton agreed with her. "But you have to admit that was the most entertaining shit we've seen in a while. Potter's _never_ going to live it down. You know the fifth years that were with us won't be able to keep _that_ quiet. And who would want them to? I laughed so hard when I saw _him_ hard that I almost died right there in Gryffindor territory." The others laughed as the scene replayed in their minds, which it was sure to be doing for a while.

"Well, hopefully it will make Severus more forgiving toward the both of you." Goyle said, and Blaise and Draco...cackled. There was no other word for it. That, coupled with the evil little grins that had stolen across their faces, caused their friends to pause and shiver. They knew that laugh and those grins, and were just thankful something involving _them_ hadn't caused them to come into play now.

"What did you do?" Virginia asked suspiciously. They each held out a hand to her, still grinning madly, and she took them warily, her eyes narrowed.

"Severus won't be forgiving us for a while." Blaise said cheerfully. Virginia wasn't too sure what there was to be cheerful about if Severus Snape was out for your head.

"And why is that?" Virginia asked when they held true to their Slytherin upbringing and supplied no more information then was necessary or asked for.

"You know that swarm of dragons following him?" Draco asked and she nodded. "That wasn't an accident or a glitch, and he knows that. But what he doesn't know is that _those_ dragons won't disappear in a day, or even a week, no matter what he does." The Slytherins and Virginia simply stared for a moment as the ramifications of that sank in. Immediately following were mental images of Snape's incensed face threatening to have them all expelled. Which he wouldn't _really_ do, of course, but still.

"There has to be _some_ way to get rid of them." Virginia said after a moment. Blaise nodded.

"They'll only disappear when the blood of one of their creators, namely me or Draco, is shed on their skin. But we don't plan to tell _him _that. The lunatic would do something like leave crushed glass in the carpet again." Crabbe, Goyle, Anton and Draco all sniggered at that, while Pansy and Virginia looked at each other, decided simultaneously that they didn't want to know, and shrugged, moving on.

"Maybe it won't be too bad." Pansy said wistfully, but she had the woeful expression of someone who had been around the two Slytherins long enough to know it was futile. "Maybe they'll find other people to like and leave him alone in a few days."

"Oh no." Draco said brightly. "We decided if we were going to do it, we were going to do it _right_." Pansy groaned.

"I have heard that _so _many times." Then she stopped, looking a tiny bit panicky. "Wait, what do you mean 'Oh no'? 'Oh no' as in it's going to be bad, or 'Oh no' as in they won't find anyone else to like because you made sure that they won't?"

"All of the above." They drawled in unison, smirking contentedly.

"He's going to kill you both one day and I'm going to laugh and laugh." Pansy said dryly, the panicked glimmer replaced by a very jaded look, quite similar to the one Virginia had seen Snape don the night before. "And do you know why?" Pansy asked them.

"Why's that, Pans?" Blaise indulged her.

"Because you'll deserve it! Do you know what he found after that incident with the Alihotsy leaves and the runespoor? A gray hair! He's only forty! If I was him I would have smothered you both in your sleep." She huffed, and they somehow managed to choke back their laughter.

"Today's been a good day so far." Blaise said under his breath, loud enough only for Draco and Virginia to hear him.

"Yeah." Draco agreed with a gleeful smile. "Potter absolutely wigged and a gray hair has to be at _least_ triple the points." Virginia gaped.

"You keep a tally!?" She asked incredulously.

"What did you think all those lines in the back of our book were for?" Blaise asked, his low voice filled with humor. "Murders and rapes?" She hit him in the arm.

"_No_, idiot, I did _not_. Are you telling me that you have over twelve pages of microscopic little dashes and that they all symboli-" She stopped when she saw their eyes goes limpid and innocent. "Oh gods. Never mind, there went any chance of getting a straight answer out of either of you. Quit _looking _at me like that." She laughed, ducking out from underneath their arms and smirking at them as she caught up with Pansy.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was later that day, after her last class but before dinner, that Virginia heard the first whispers of unease. Something about an emergency issue of the Daily Prophet that had been sent to the teachers, but not to the students. Someone, though, had apparently managed to do an illegal forgery charm and there were a few copies circling, but word of mouth was circling much faster. She hurried down the hallway, looking for anyone she knew. She couldn't tell anything from the mumbled conversations, and she didn't want to corner a first year. They were quite unreliable, anyway. She was on the second floor when she saw Colin and Dennis, and she made a beeline for them, ignoring people's stares.

She was starting to wish she had left with the Slytherins in her class like they had asked her to (nearly begged, actually, and she was pretty sure that had something to do with her illustrious boyfriends), because the eyes constantly on her were unnerving. And now, for some reason, their looks were almost hostile, not at all like they'd been earlier in the day. Earlier, they'd been curious and stunned, stumbling over words and staring. Now, they seemed furious and stunned, halting speech altogether when she neared and glaring. _What the hell is wrong with everyone? _She had a wild thought, as she drew even with Colin and Dennis, that it was funny everyone was shooting mental daggers at her while petting her boyfriends' creations at the same time.

"Hey." She said hesitantly, worried the two brothers would look at her like everyone else seemed to be. Well, the Slytherins weren't, but she hadn't even seen any of them since this weird shit had started anyway. Colin and his brother looked up at her anxiously, but they didn't seem angry. The opposite, actually.

"Oh, fuck. Gin, your boyfriends or whatever care about you, right? They'll keep you safe?" Colin asked right off the bat, throwing her off track.

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Because you need to find them before someone here decides to do something stupid. I haven't seen a copy of this paper or whatever, but word of mouth says there's been a serious attack. A _Death Eater_ attack. Even the Hufflepuffs have started in with suspicions about the Slytherins, and most of the Gryffindors are...Well, they're being very _Gryffindorish_ and wanting to retaliate, and so do a lot of the Ravenclaws. Just please, please go fin-"

"Hey!" A shout cut him off. "I found her!" Ginny's heart nearly leapt in her throat, as Colin's speech had wound her up, and she cursed herself for being stupid as she saw a third year Slytherin glaring much older students out of her way. The girl twisted through the crowd with an efficiency that would have made her House mascot proud. There was a group of about ten Slytherins on her heels, mostly third and forth years, but two sixth years were also with them.

"Come on, we have to get out of here." The third year said, putting her hand on Virginia's arm and sneering at the Creeveys when she saw the scarlet on their robes. "Fucking _Gryffindors_." She spat. "Did you know one of yours just shoved a friend of mine down a flight of steps? But it was an _accident_. The lot of you _noble _bastards can burn in Tartarus." She seemed to collect herself as the Gryffindors stared in mute horror. Had one of their own really done that?

"Except you, of course, Virginia. Come on, we have to go. Pansy shouldn't be very far." Another girl said, one of the sixth years, Daphne. Virginia waved to the Creeveys as she was surrounded by a tide of green and black.

"Can someone please explain to me what the fuck's going on?" Virginia asked as she was led down a hallway full of murmuring, pointing students.

"You'll see. Draco's close. And angry." Daphne said, looking down at a small orb she held in her hand. It looked like a much smaller version of the spelled orbs they'd used for the dragons, but it was a pale, icy blue. At Virginia's questioning glance, she explained. "It's Blaise's. They each have one, and they've been making one for you. He gave it to me because I have a good nose." She said, and Ginny remembered she was a wolf in her Animagus form. "All I had to do was tap it when we found you and Draco knew through a charm he has. Draco gave his orb to Pansy, and it alerts Blaise the same way."

"As soon as they found out, they came looking for you." The sixth year boy, Marcello, said. "But Sprout, the nosy old hag, stopped them in the hallway. So they sent us ahead. Snape has officially decreed that no Slytherin is to go anywhere alone at any time until further notice, and unofficially decreed that the same goes for you. But you didn't hear that from me if McGonagall asks. No offense, but she's a cranky bint."

"None taken." Virginia said distractedly. Pansy joined them shortly, her group of Slytherins mixing with theirs automatically. But Virginia wasn't really paying attention as Pansy tapped her own orb and greetings were exchanged.

Her eyes caught a flash of silver and she let herself relax a bit. She wasn't worried about herself, but she was worried about Draco, Blaise and the other Slytherins, especially the older students, as they would be the ones most likely heading any confrontation between the Houses. Draco came fully into view, and Daphne was right. He was very, very angry. She could see that he was keeping a tight leash on his Elemental power, as nothing was icing over or spontaneously exploding. But he couldn't hide the dark rage in his eyes, at least not from her, nor could he hide his relief when he saw her with his Housemates. The students were actually scrambling to make a path for him, even as they glowered at him.

"To the dungeons. Now." He said shortly, softening the clipped words by kissing the side of her neck as he slid a protective arm around her waist. They made it to the Slytherin dorms without any problems, although menacing looks followed them everywhere. The common room was almost full when they arrived, and they saw Snape talking with Melody, Millicent and a group of younger years. All of their dragons flew away to the center of the room where everyone else's had gone, even Snape's, and they joined in the synchronized flying that the others were doing.

"Where's Blaise?" Virginia asked after scanning the room and seeing him nowhere.

"Trelawney caught him on the fifth floor right after my charm let us know that they'd found you. I assume Daphne explained?" He continued when she nodded. "Well, at any rate he shouldn't be too much longer." Draco said as they walked over to Snape. She nodded again, but she knew the last knots of worry wouldn't leave her until she saw him. When they sat down, Draco pulled a rolled up parchment out of his voluminous sleeve.

"What's that?" She questioned curiously, hoping it was what she thought it was.

"I'm sure you can guess." Draco said, handing it to her. It was the emergency issue of the Daily Prophet.

"How'd did you get this?" She asked. "Were you the one who used that forgery charm?

"Of course not." Draco said, looking affronted. "_That_, thank you very much, is the real thing."

"But someone said that students weren't sent or allowed copies." She said. He just looked at her. "Right." She murmured, rolling her eyes and turning to the paper.

The article (the only article as it was a mid-day emergency issue) said that Diagon Alley had been attacked by Death Eaters around noon that day. They'd come from nowhere, just streaming out of the alleyways, and the people were taken by surprise. The new wards they'd put up last year had apparently been taken down by a traitor, and the people who'd thought they were safe, weren't. It was the first major attack since the Ministry had half-ass admitted Voldemort's return, and the casualties were high. She recognized many names on the list of deaths and many more on the list of injuries. There were also lists of dead or injured Death Eaters who were in the Ministry's possession, and many more who'd been sighted when their masks came off. Nearly every Slytherin attending Hogwarts had someone sharing their name on one of the lists of the Death Eaters, be it a parent or a distant relation.

"Who are Natilana Malfoy, Fabian Zabini and Giuseppe Zabini?" She asked after scanning the lists.

"Natilana is my second cousin and the other two were Blaise's first cousins." Draco said absently, and when she looked up, she saw he was looking towards the entrance, the first hint of worry clouding his silver eyes.

"He'll be here." She said, not sure whether she was saying it more for her own benefit or for his.

They sat in silence, but after nearly twenty minutes, their patience was running thin. Draco had tried to find him through their link, but Blaise was blocking him for some reason, only letting him through enough to know that he was alive and not mortally wounded. Which, honestly, wasn't the best consolation. Draco's fingers kept flittering back to the tattoo on his arm, which usually would also let him know if Blaise was hurt, but with Blaise blocking, he couldn't be sure of anything but the same things the mind link told him; that he wasn't so seriously hurt he needed help. Draco had finally stood, saying enough was enough, when the wall opened up. Two fifth year Slytherins stumbled in, their usual grace forgotten as they simply tried to walk.

They were covered in cuts and bruises, and it was obvious the damage continued underneath their clothing. Even though she was more than half expecting it, Virginia's breath caught when Blaise came in behind them, the front of his robes soaked in blood. There was a huge gash from his temple to his chin, and blood was pouring out of it. A livid bruise was forming on his other cheek, his right arm looked broken, and even _his_ natural fluidity was hampered by the fact that he was favoring his left leg. The Slytherins looked shocked, while Draco and Virginia went to his side immediately. They helped him to the couch, amid much snarling from him stating that he was fine, and crouched down beside him. Snape came over almost instantly, kneeling down next to them.

"What the fuck happened?" Draco asked in a venomous hiss. "Who did this?"

"Exister vous soucieux pour moi, mon chou?" Blaise asked, a slight smirk on his lips. He coughed suddenly, and two things happened at once. Blood splattered on his lips as the racking cough shook his body, and Draco gasped, nearly falling backwards as Blaise lost the hold he had on their bond. Draco's face paled, before he drew himself up and his eyes frosted over as he began channeling power. He clutched Blaise's hand, and color rushed back into his lover's cheeks, while his breathing evened out a bit, the pain gone long enough for him to talk before they fully healed him. It would take the three Slytherins Snape had just sent to his office at least ten minutes to get the necessary potions anyway. ((Were you worried for me, my beloved?))

"De cours je être, vous bête soucieux!" Then, a deep breath and in English, "_How dare you_?" Draco seethed. "How dare you hide such pain from me? You are such a hypocrite!" He snapped. Virginia was stunned. It was the first time she'd seen either of them genuinely angry with the other. She turned to Pansy, a question in her eyes. Pansy leaned close. ((Of course I was, you stupid bastard!))

"He called him a hypocrite because Draco pulled the same trick a couple years ago when his father took him to see Voldemort. Blaise was infuriated for weeks afterward." Pansy whispered.

"I'm not going to fight with you about this now." Draco said suddenly, obviously working to keep his voice calm. "Later. We'll fight later."

"Marvelous." Blaise said through gritted teeth, but he did look abashed.

"What happened?" Snape asked after he told Pansy and Anton to start patching up the smaller injuries two fifth years had.

"I was passing that third floor balcony on the east side after I'd gotten away from that crazy old hag Trelawney. Today of all days she just had to know if I had any Aetherius Draught. _Honestly_. That woman is addicted." Blaise replied, smirking.

"And?" Draco all but growled. "Get to the point. And no bullshit." Blaise sighed, but nodded.

"Well, like I said, I was passing that balcony when I saw some sixth years messing with those two." He said, gesturing to the two younger Slytherins. "There were seven or eight of them, and I know Mycella and Devon didn't want to use any magic because of that bloody attack today. I, however, had no such scruples." He said, a vicious sneer twisting his lips. "It was an easy jump from the balcony, and that alone scared the sixth years so bad that I couldn't help laughing at them. We were right by the Whomping Willow, and those bastards used some kind of repulsion spell to knock Mycella and Devon through the branches all the way to the trunk."

"And?" Snape said after a minute, but Virginia had a pretty good idea what had happened next, and she didn't like it. If it were any other 'active' tree but a Whomping Willow, she wouldn't have been concerned and Blaise wouldn't be so hurt. But they had told her on one of their walks around the grounds that a Whomping Willow's magic had adverse effects on a shapeshifter. Such as lowering their speed, flexibility, eyesight and hearing quite drastically.

"What do you think?" Blaise asked dryly. "I preformed my own little version of their repulsion spell and sent them halfway into the Forbidden Forest. Then I got Mycella and Devon."

"'_Then I got Mycella and __Devon_'." Draco mocked, his breath so cold his lips were taking on a bluish tinge. "Are you telling me that instead of just letting me know where you were so we could send help you _fought that goddamned tree_!?" Blaise nodded warily.

"More like it fought me, actually. I had to, Dray. Those stupid fucks 'not thinking' almost got those two killed. You would have done the same for any Slytherin and you know it." He said, and before Draco could start cursing again, Blaise's fingers tightened around Draco's hand as another bolt of pain hit him. His eyes shifted, the pupils splitting, and she knew it was bad if his healing instincts were taking over without him calling on them. It didn't escape Draco's attention, either.

"Robe off, now. The energy I sent you should have lasted longer than this. You didn't keep the pain I felt earlier dampened, did you?" Draco asked suspiciously. Blaise avoided his gaze and Draco spat out something that sounded as if it were four or five languages blended together, none of which Virginia could even identify, much less understand. He waved his hand, speaking a spell, and when Blaise's robe and shirt disappeared, Virginia sucked in a breath, suddenly nauseous, unbidden tears springing to her eyes.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Oooooh, a cliffie! Please review and tell me if you like it so far!


	5. Twisted Roads and New Beginnings

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

Side Note: I've gotten some comments on the boys not showing Gin enough affection, or that she doesn't mean as much to them as they do to each other. Just to clear it up a little, they do care for her. A lot. But they've only really had one another their entire lives, and this isn't going to be one of those 'over before they really begin' stories. The three stars of this little drama have only been together two months, so of course the two Slytherins aren't going to have exactly the same level of closeness with her yet, but the fact they're opening up to her at all, considering her House and family and the way that Slytherins rarely tend to trust outsiders (for good reasons) is major progress. But to quell any fears, I promise that completely equal intimacy won't be too far off in the future. But to sum it up: They care more about her than they do about anyone else in the world.

Important: I installed a bad Windows update onto my computer last Thursday, and I just got it back on Saturday night. Therefore, this chapter took a little longer to get out than usual, which I am very sorry about! But everything is up and running once more thanks to the wonderful computer geniuses at IDS. And a very sincere 'thank you' to everyone who has commented on this story so far. Please keep reviewing!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco waved his hand, speaking a spell, and when Blaise's robe and shirt disappeared, Virginia sucked in a breath, suddenly nauseous, unbidden tears springing to her eyes. She wasn't the only one, either. Blaise was covered in cuts and already-forming bruises, but that wasn't by far the worst of it. He had at least four broken ribs, the worst of it on his right side where the bones seemed to be almost poking though his skin. It was swollen and discolored, the bruises surrounding it spreading to and connecting with the others that were beginning to cover his torso and shoulders, disappearing into his pants. The left side was bad, but not as horrible as the right. Only one rib seemed to be broken on that side and there was a nasty cut from his nipple to his hip.

His right arm looked as if it had been snapped in half at the elbow, hanging crookedly at his side on the cushions. The flesh there was swelling rapidly as the pulse of healing energy Draco had sent him wore off. Blaise's lips parted in a silent gasp when Draco ran knowing fingers over his side, and Virginia saw a flash of telltale fangs. Running her eyes over him again, she wondered what it was that had his body calling not only on the healing properties of his shapeshifter blood, but on the vampiric ones as well. She knew Draco had caught it too, as his eyes raced over Blaise's form, his nostrils flaring slightly. His gaze went almost immediately to the cushions on Blaise's right, mercury eyes narrowing as he paled. Virginia looked to what had caught his attention, and gasped when she saw a growing pool of blood.

"Foutre!" Draco hissed, and did a quick bone-knitting spell on Blaise's arm. Broken bones weren't the problem, as those were easy to fix. It was the possible internal damage and whatever was causing him to bleed like that that had her worried. Draco ran healing hands over Blaise's ribs and his broken left leg also, then over the long gash on his face, just as the Slytherins that Snape had sent to get potions returned. ((Fuck!))

"Here." Snape said, handing them a flask. Draco took it as if he knew exactly what it was, so Virginia said nothing, just made a mental note to ask about it later. Snape moved away to help the fifth years, while Blaise regarded them with glazed eyes, the normally dark blue nearly neon as his body drew on his power in order to help heal him. Draco held the flask to his lips, and Blaise drank it without complaint.

"Help me move him?" Draco asked her when Blaise had finished off the potion. "I need to see the wound on his back." She nodded, and they turned Blaise onto his stomach carefully, while he hissed weak threats at them. She saw him glance warily at Draco, and wondered at it until she looked down.

There was a huge puncture wound on his right side, the opening nearly as large as Draco's fist. It was also quite deep, and she wondered how whatever it was that had stabbed him hadn't gone all the way through. She was also vaguely aware that she was in shock, which was something she always thought that authors made up so their heroines seemed more dramatic. But she figured that's what it had to be, since she felt as if she were moving through an underwater dream. The nausea was still there, but it was like everything else was at the moment: Foggy and fake. The only thing that was clear was the need to help the young man on the couch in front of her, no matter what she had to do. Forcing herself to look again, she saw that the flesh surrounding the wound was as bruised and beaten as the front of his torso; nearly every inch of his back was purple, black and yellow.

"Blaise?" Draco asked suddenly, running a finger over livid red lines that were running from the wound, which she hadn't even noticed a moment ago. "Mon âme? S'il vous plait, tell me sap did not get in the wound." There was a note of fear in Draco's voice, the first she had ever heard from either of them. "Did sap get in the wound!?" He asked again, when Blaise said nothing. ((My soul? Please))

"Oui." Blaise breathed after another moment, and Virginia felt her heart sink to her feet when she saw a look much too close to panic flicker in Draco's silvery eyes. ((Yes))

"What does that mean?" She asked, and her voice sounded far away to her. Draco and Blaise looked over at her slowly, before Blaise's eyes fluttered shut and all traces of emotion seemed to leak out of Draco's expression, his eyes turning cold and distant, the silver melting away to be replaced with icy iron.

"You know the effect Whomping Willows have on our kind." He said, his words bland. She nodded, confused at his sudden change in attitude. "Their sap is also a poison to us. If not treated properly, it's lethal within two hours. And even if treatment _is_ available, the shifter still has only a fifty percent chance of survival and a forty percent chance of a full recovery." He said bluntly. Virginia looked at her other lover, who lay bleeding on the couch, and felt a furious fire begin to burn deep inside of her. Recognizing it for the rage it was, she pushed it down. There would be time for revenge later.

"What can we do?" She asked, shoving the fear away, too. Blaise needed her strength, not tears and hysterics. And it would take every ounce of willpower and control she had to keep Draco from following him should this all go wrong, let alone herself…But she couldn't, _mustn't_, think about that now.

"You wish to help?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side and looking at her strangely.

"Of course I do!" She said immediately, glaring at him. Why would he ask her something like that? And why was he being so…indifferent towards her suddenly? The loving spark that was usually in his eyes when he looked at her was gone. _Everything_ inside those eyes was gone. Snape appeared next to them and when his gaze fell on the wound on Blaise's back, his eyes widened impossibly.

"No." He said, once again kneeling next to them, shaking his head in denial. He looked the area over thoroughly, before his eyes became shuttered and he turned to Draco. "You know what to do?" He questioned, but it sounded more like a statement.

"I'll probably be able to manage something." Draco said, a bored expression on his face. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to slap Draco Malfoy. She wanted to scream '_That's our love dying on the couch! Don't you care_!?', but she held her tongue. She couldn't believe he was so…unaffected. He'd seemed worried at first, but it seemed to have bled away into nothing, not even the tiniest bit of remorse or concern. Snape looked at Draco for a long moment, before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"He _will_ live, Draco." Snape said, his voice as hard as steel. But there was also understanding in his eyes. "He will _not _die." Draco said nothing, only turned blank eyes away from them, but it clicked in Virginia's mind and she felt instantly guilty. Draco wasn't unaffected at all. Far from it. He was just protecting himself the only way he knew how to in these circumstances, drawing so far into himself that he was barely there and letting his birthright coat his heart in a frozen shield of temporary numbness. In other words, this was Draco's way of panicking. _How very..._Malfoy_ of him_, she thought to herself.

"It will take all night, at least." Draco said, after having stayed silent nearly an entire minute, his hand on Blaise's forehead. "And it will take most of my energy and the energy of whoever seconds me in the trance. It will not be easy." He said, turning diamond-hard eyes on her. "You have yet to even walk among the visions, let alone a healing road. The path we must follow for poison is treacherous and deadly. You could easily lose yourself and break your mind. Do you still wish to help?" Draco asked her, his voice very serious even as his face betrayed nothing, not even a twinge of the pain and grief that she knew was eating at him inside.

A hush seemed to have fallen over the room, and she found it oddly funny that she had barely even noticed the other Slytherins still around her until they'd become silent. She did not answer immediately this time, since she knew he would refuse her help if he believed her to have answered rashly and without thinking. So she did think about it. Yes, she knew it would be dangerous. Any healer who walks a poison path is in danger, especially when fighting the deadlier poisons; and for Blaise, that's exactly what the sap was. And while Draco was nearly done with the training and would be taking the exam to certify him as a full-fledged Black Healer within the next year, she hadn't even really begun. But could she _not _help? Could she stand by and do nothing while the only two people in the world that she really, truly loved (besides her family, of course) fought for their lives? The answer was almost blinding in its honesty and simplicity. No. Not a fucking chance.

"Yes. I still want to help." She said, lifting her eyes to his and letting him see that she knew exactly what she was agreeing to. He seemed to falter, a tiny crack forming in his icy wall, but he glanced back at Blaise and nodded all the same.

"Then come." He said, holding his hand out to her.

She searched his face, looking for any flicker of remaining warmth, but found none. She almost hesitated, before images assaulted her brain. Silver eyes thawed and burning, burning with _her_ heat; raven hair trailing over her skin like the richest silk, driving her senses insane; two sets of smooth, elegant hands running over every inch of her, practically pouring affection and devotion straight through pale flesh and into her very soul. Then the images started coming faster, brief flashes of love and lust, passion and laughter, before they changed abruptly. The next were full of blood and screaming, rage and death. Darkness was creeping in, filling her, and she couldn't see past the twisting, swirling, sweet-cold fury that was freezing the blood in her veins. There was nothing but the sensations, nothing but…It stopped suddenly and Virginia was once more looking through her own eyes, feeling her own thoughts and emotions. She glanced hurriedly up at Draco.

"How…What _was_ that? It was you, wasn't it?" She asked, ignoring Snape's questioning look.

"Yes." Draco said, his hand still held out to her. She took it, and his skin felt like ice. "I'll explain how later, and no, I don't know why you got those last few images. There's no time now, we have to hurry." He said, his voice still emotionless. But the first of the visions had done what she supposed he had intended for them to do, reassuring her that it was still _him_ no matter how far inside himself he had retreated, no matter how cold he had to be in order not to break down before they even begun. And the last of it…Well, she knew by now that they each held darkness in their souls. If it were going to scare her off, it would have done so a long time ago. Like, say, that first night when she'd been introduced to blood-play. _Yep_, she thought, _that would almost assuredly have been it for most normal people. Thank the gods for my abnormalities_.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, her fingers tightening around his.

He waved his free hand over their joined ones, speaking a spell in what sounded like Russian. A small ball of purple light appeared in the air, and then began elongating until it looked like a glowworm. It hovered down until it lay over their skin, then began winding around their wrists, pushing in between them so it could wrap each one individually. It grew longer and longer as it worked, until they each had a glowing cuff of light encircling one of their wrists. The cuffs were attached to each other by more of the purple light, about a foot's worth of slack between them. She pulled at it experimentally, and it stretched easily, no matter how far she pulled her hand away. She looked up at Draco, an inquiry in her charcoal eyes.

"When we go into the trance, this will keep you with me." He explained swiftly. "I can get us easily enough to the right path, but this isn't invincible. There are plenty of things where we're going that could cut the cord and separate us. Be on guard constantly. As soon as we enter the trance, Blaise will go into a suspended state. He will live and breathe until we either fail or beat the poison. But _you_ must promise me something." He said, pulling her closer to him, his glacial eyes meeting hers.

"What?" She asked, confused, as his voice sounded almost pleading.

"No matter _what_ happens, there will be no sacrifices from you, do you understand? The land we go to is tricky and deceptive. I cannot lose you, ma chéri." He said with all seriousness, his eyes boring into hers. She gave a weak nod, trying to push her renewed fear away as easily as she had earlier. "Are you ready?" He asked, running his thumb along her jaw line. ((my darling))

"Yes," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

"Alright. Give me your hand." Draco said, but his tone wasn't quite as hard as it had been earlier, and she knew that he was fighting his instinctive reaction to block out everything and everyone, so as not to hurt her again. She held her cuffed hand out to him without the slightest bit of hesitation this time, berating herself for her earlier lack of understanding since he'd obviously caught on to it, and watched as he did a quick shift, his index nail becoming razor sharp.

He sliced her palm quickly before doing his own, and as she watched the ruby fluid dripping from their identical cuts and splattering on the rug, she remembered an old story her mother had told her when she was a child. It was about a Prince of their people who had lost his Lady and who later took a blood oath that he would never love another besides the earth itself. When his blood had hit the grass, full of soul energy, the land had listened and flowers had grown where the crimson liquid had been spilt. It was said that ever since, whenever a witch or wizard of pure blood bled upon the living ground, flowers still sprung from the earth in honor of that oath.

She had tested it, of course, and been amazed two days later when wild, red roses were winding up the base of her favorite tree. Snapping out of her thoughts, she saw a whispered conference between Snape and Draco come to an end. Draco reached out once more, and Blaise, who had not moved or spoken since his eyes had fallen shut earlier, didn't so much as flinch when Draco sliced his hand open. A muffled curse had her looking over at Draco, and she was slightly amazed when she saw that his blood had frozen and the wound had frosted over. She couldn't help cocking an eyebrow at him. For a split second, it almost looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but his attention quickly returned to the other as a light moan escaped Blaise's lips.

She leaned over slightly and touched the frozen wound on Draco's hand, letting just enough heat escape her skin to melt the slight coating of frost. The blood began running once more and she looked up to find iron-gray eyes on her. Something flickered in them, and lips so cold they almost burned pressed against her forehead a moment later. She returned the kiss, her lips meeting the chilled flesh of his throat. It was brief, over almost as soon as it had begun, but she was more grateful for it than she had been for anything in a long time. It meant more to her than she could say that he would still try to comfort her even when he had a beloved's possible death hanging over his head.

"Your other hand, now." He said, and she extended her free hand. It was done quickly, as were his and Blaise's. They carefully rolled Blaise back over, as Snape had bandaged the wound while she and Draco had been momentarily distracted. Draco took her hand, their blood mingling between them, before they each took one of Blaise's bleeding hands in their free ones. They made an awkward triangle, with the two of them kneeling on the rug and Blaise lying comatose on the couch.

"We go now. Prepare yourself." Draco warned her, and she began the rhythmic breathing that she'd been taught to do when attempting to enter any sort of trance. A minute passed, and she was completely unaware of Snape ushering out the other Slytherins except for Pansy, Melody and Anton. Another minute passed, and Draco began a slow chant in the Old Tongue, one which opened the way for them and connected the three of them together through the blood they all now shared. She was vaguely aware through their new link that Blaise's infected blood was burning Draco worse than any flame could, before the world flipped and spun, everything going black.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They knew immediately when Draco and Virginia had slipped into the healing trance because their eyes glazed over, unseeing gazes locked on Blaise's still form. When Severus nodded at her, Pansy began the circle of protection, a shield which would ensure that nothing could follow them back whenever they returned to their bodies. _If they return_, a cynical little voice in the back of her mind intoned, but she shut it out quickly. It would do no good to think such things. The three of them were strong. If anyone could do it, they could. Draco would guide Virginia and they would bring Blaise back. She repeated that to herself over and over as she cast the ring of protection. When it was done, she looked to Snape, who nodded his approval. The four of them sat down on the couch across from the still forms of their friends (or, in Severus's case, two godsons and a favored student who happened to be a Gryffindor) to wait.

"I'm scared." Melody admitted after a few minutes, her eyes darting back to the three figures inside the circle.

"They'll be fine, darling." Anton reassured her, sliding an arm across her shoulders and drawing her close to him.

"No, you don't understand." She argued, but didn't move out of his comforting embrace. "Ever since we heard Draco mention the sap I've felt horrible. I can't really explain it. We've known Draco and Blaise since we were children. What if something awful happens to them?" She asked miserably. Pansy knew exactly how she felt. Sliding closer to the other girl, she let their fingers intertwine, lending her silent support. Melody gave her a weak smile and kissed her cheek. They sat in silence for a while longer, before a strange banging noise could be heard from outside the entrance to the common room.

"What on earth is that?" Anton asked.

"I'll check." Pansy said, moving towards the entrance.

"And I'll be coming with you." Anton said, his tone allowing no disagreements. She refrained from rolling her eyes and nodded.

"Fine. But it better not be because I'm female." She said, and he _did _roll his eyes.

"Darling, I come from a long line of purebloods. If there's one thing my ancestors have graced me with, it's a strong survival instinct. I would never be so stupid as to assume that a witch as capable as you are wouldn't be able to do just fine on her own."

"Flattery, my dear Anton," Pansy said with a smirk as they walked for the entrance, "will get you _everywhere_."

"Yes, I know." He replied with a cheeky grin. "Part of that survival instinct." She slapped his arm and spoke the exiting spell, which opened the wall. Thanks to Draco and Blaise's morbid little senses of humor, the wall bled on the inside as well as the outside. That thought brought on the worry and fear that were waiting to break free, but the sight that greeted her on the other side of the wall shocked those feelings into the background once more.

"Where's my sister?" Ron Weasley demanded, while Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and that Gryffindor girl Virginia was friends with were flanking him. Pansy, for once in her life, seemed unable to form words. Thank the gods for Anton.

"What in the fuck are you doing here?" Anton asked incredulously. "This is the _Slytherin_ dormitory, in case you've forgotten, and you are all most certainly _not_ welcome here. Go back to your tower."

"The fuck I will!" Ron exclaimed. "I want to see my sister! Or I'll go and get the Headmaster!" He threatened, but before Pansy could spit out a retort, her shock at seeing Gryffindors on their doorstep gone as quickly as it had come, Severus appeared behind them with Melody at his side.

"May I inquire as to _what_, exactly, has brought four little Gryffindors down to the snake's den? And on such a day as this one." Severus said dryly. Ron seemed to quail before puffing himself up and reminding Pansy strongly of that other Weasley who'd been Head Boy a few years back.

"Lions aren't afraid of snakes." Ron spat, and Pansy saw Granger elbow him in the back.

"The lion may be king of the jungle," Pansy said acidly, "but drop him into Antarctica, and he's just a penguin's bitch." Anton and Melody both started laughing, while Severus snorted and smirked. The Gryffindors gaped at her and at each other for nearly a full minute before Potter stepped forward.

"Look, can we just see Ginny?" He asked, but he wouldn't meet any of the Slytherins' eyes. Pansy sneered.

"Are you sure it's not _Draco_ that you'd like to see?" She asked mockingly, unable and unwilling to keep the gleeful note of remembrance out of her voice, and the Slytherins watched with immense satisfaction as he turned beet red. The mudblood seemed to feel it was time to step in.

"Please," she started, "we're all just worried about Ginny. She never came back to the tower and-"

"You really expected her to?" Anton asked viciously. "Your _loyal _lot was glaring and jeering at her as much as the other two Houses. It must hurt to see your own turn against you." The Gryffindors looked taken aback, and then the other girl who'd come with them scooted around Weasley.

"This is going nowhere." She said, looking determined. "I'm sorry, but I want to see my friend." With that said, she went for her wand, which had the Slytherins automatically whipping their own out with practiced ease. She looked surprised, but shook her head and finished pulling out seven inches of oak. She pointed the tip at her palm, reciting a slicing spell. It strongly reminded Pansy of her friends' own palms when she saw the girl's blood run and she shook her head clear before she could become distracted. Then, moving quickly, the girl slammed her hand against the stone wall.

"Lauren, what-" Granger started, but the girl, 'Lauren' apparently, cut her off.

"Pure blood upon pure stone, deny me not entrance to thy home!" Lauren started, and the wall began to glow white underneath her hand. "A boon I ask of the House of Slytherin, and a debt I will owe thee no matter the sin!" The wall's light flashed brightly, before a beam of it reached out, wrapping around her hand while another shot out, connecting to Severus's own hand. The Potions Master glared fiercely, but spoke all the same.

"Pure blood eaten by pure stone, thy shall not be denied entrance to our home." The scowl on Severus' face was almost murderous. "But should Slytherin House be betrayed by thee, death will come for thee within a week." He looked a bit more cheerful at that, but not by much. The other three Gryffindors looked shocked, and the Slytherins angrier then they'd been before, although they were also slightly pleased, as they were almost certain the girl had no idea just how binding that oath could be, or she never would have done it. There were ways into Slytherin besides a direct invitation, yes, but none of them were free. Or very pleasant.

"So be it." Both Lauren and Severus said together. The light flashed again, before fading and sinking back into the blood-free wall.

"Well." Pansy said after a moment's silence. "That was a stupid thing to do. And very bloody rude."

"What _did_ you do?" Granger asked Lauren. "I understood the oath well enough, but how…"

"How did I know what to do?" Lauren asked, staring at her healed hand a little dazedly. "My mother's step-sister was a Slytherin. She told me how to gain entrance should I ever really need it, when I wrote to her about Ginny."

"Traitor." Melody hissed. "What is her surname?" Lauren looked at her warily, but answered.

"Praedon."

"Oh, wonderful." Melody said sarcastically. "Even better, then. A blood-traitor. Absolutely bloody _fabulous_." Lauren looked affronted, but wisely decided to keep her mouth shut and said nothing more than a few words.

"Right. Can we come in now?"

"_You_ may. Nothing was ever said for _them_." Severus said nastily, and the Slytherins had quite a good time watching the Gryffindors splutter. Lauren finally began to lift her hand again, moving once more for the wall, but Severus waved her away with a look of complete and utter disgust. "Honestly, child. Do quit that. You'll end up a Slytherin slave."

"A what!?" Weasley asked, taking on a green tinge. Pansy, Anton and Melody looked at each other, silently and simultaneously deciding that it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and that if they did, Blaise and Draco would never forgive them. Plus, the bastards had forced their way into Slytherin. A little payback was in order.

"A Slytherin slave." Pansy said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Severus shot her a warning look, which she typically ignored. "I knew the Weasleys were a disgrace to purebloods everywhere, except for your darling sister, but I was under the impression that you at _least_ still followed the old ways." The Weasel looked furious.

"Of course we do!"

"Then don't you have your own slaves?" Melody asked, and the Gryffindors took on disgusted expressions that rivaled Snape's from a moment ago.

"Slaves?" Granger asked, her voice full of disbelief. "Oh lord, you actually keep _slaves_? Here? At _Hogwarts_?"

"Naturally." Anton said, sticking his nose in the air. "What sort of purebloods would we be if we didn't?" He asked, shooting a meaningful glance at Weasley. "Do come in, though. After all, the celebration is about to begin." While he'd been talking, Pansy and Melody had been doing some quick illusion wandwork behind their backs, trying not to snigger while Severus shot them exasperated looks out of the corner of his eyes.

"Celebration?" Granger questioned weakly. The Slytherins said nothing, only moved away from the entrance, motioning the Gryffindors to enter. They did so cautiously and gaped at what they saw, the wall closing behind them.

"Oh gods." Weasley said, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he looked at the common room-turned-S&M club. The couch where the three lost in a healing trance were was no longer visible, and all they saw was a huge open room, chains hanging from the walls, each set holding a whimpering male or female dressed in scraps of shiny leather. Whips, knives and other various instruments of torture and ecstasy were lying around carelessly, and the people attached to the walls were bleeding from various wounds.

"Now, only the older students are allowed to play with the muggles, of course." Pansy said, seeing Severus's resigned expression out of the corner of her eyes.

"They're muggles?" Granger croaked. The Slytherins gave her scathing looks while internally laughing at the Gryffindors' horrified expressions.

"Did you think we would enslave other _wizards_?" Melody asked with a sneer.

"This has to be illegal." Potter murmured, looking appalled.

"Illegal?" Anton questioned. "Why would it be illegal? It's tradition!"

"It's _monstrous_!" Granger argued, her cheeks flushed. Weasley gasped suddenly when he spotted a redhead against the right wall.

"Ginny?" He asked in disbelief, running over to her. Just as he was about to reach for her, he was yanked backwards. He spun around, glaring.

"Didn't you just hear us say that they're muggles?" Pansy asked, her voice full of cruel humor.

"That's not a muggle!" Weasley retorted furiously. "Let me go! I'm getting my sister and we're getting the fuck away from you Slytherin freaks! When the Ministry hears about thi-" Pansy cut him off.

"Then by all means, Weasley, go get her." She said, and shoved him hard. He fell backwards, his arms flailing wildly, obviously trying not to crush the small girl moaning in pain at his feet. But when he hit, it was the ground, not a girl. He'd fallen right through her. He made quite a picture with a phantom head coming out of his chest and four arms. It was silent until the Slytherins couldn't hold it in anymore and cracked up. Pansy would have fallen had Anton not caught her, since she was laughing so hard her knees had given out.

"_Finite Incantatum_." She and Melody both said, waving their wands. The illusions fell away, revealing their usual common room with its plush cushions and rich decorations. The Gryffindors' mouths dropped as they watched it all fade away, and dropped even farther as the couch and circle came back into view moments later. Weasley yelped, running for his sister, and this time no one stopped him. If the idiot didn't recognize a circle of protection, then he deserved what he got. Which happened to be running into an invisible wall that flung him backwards with a loud 'CRACK'. He flew through the air before slamming into a heavy wooden end table and slumping bonelessly to the floor. His friends ran to his side immediately.

"_Ennervate_." Granger said, and the Weasel's eyes opened groggily.

"Gin...Where's Gin?" He asked, struggling to sit up. Granger preformed a few quick healing spells and soon they were all on their feet once more. "What the hell did you do to my sister?" Weasley demanded.

"And what was all of..._that_?" Lauren added. The Slytherins took their time getting back to the couch they had occupied earlier, sitting down slowly and brushing imaginary dust from their immaculate robes. When the vein in Weasley's forehead was throbbing, Pansy finally spoke.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked in a falsetto sweet voice.

"You know damn good and well what we mean!" Weasley vented. "What did you do with those people? And what 'celebration' were you talking about? Who could celebrate on a day like this?" He asked, and then stopped. "Oh. Of course. _Slytherins_." He said derisively. Cold glares were leveled at him, and Granger stepped forward, then slightly in front of him.

"I do believe we've been tricked, Ron." The mudblood said, her eyes darting around the room.

"You always were clever, Granger. I'll give you that." Pansy said, looking at her calculatingly. She then glanced lazily over at Weasley. "I have, however, come across decomposed bodies that were brighter than _he_ is."

"You bloody bit-"

"That will be enough, Mr. Weasley." Severus said, his voice low and cutting. The Weasel looked over, his eyes wide, as if he'd completely forgotten that the Professor was there. Pansy shot him a smug grin.

"Do sit down." She said with false courtesy. "You look so awkward standing."

"I-" The Weasel started, but Granger grabbed his arm and they moved to one of the loveseats while Potter and Lauren sat on one of the oversized cushions. Pansy almost laughed, as they looked more awkward sitting with stiff backs among all of the green and silver pillows than they had when they were standing. "Better?"

"Yes." Weasley said through gritted teeth when Granger poked him in the ribs. "Now what the hell have you done to my sister?"

"Why don't you tell us what the fuck your Housemates and their friends did today, first?" Melody suggested, her eyes hard and her voice bitter.

"What are you talking about?" Potter asked, finally lifting his eyes and meeting Pansy's gaze. She let him see what she knew would bother him the most. Pity.

Which, of course, was a load of bullshit. Pity was too good for Gryffindors, especially for the Boy Who Just Couldn't Die. The majority of the Slytherins disliked Potter for quite a few reasons, and they weren't what everyone else assumed. They detested him because the very moment that had made him famous and adored had completely fucked their lives up. Had Potter died like he was supposed to, the Dark Lord would have either been dead himself or reigning since shortly after their births, and they never would have known anything different. Or, had Potter at least actually _defeated_ the Dark Lord (which is what he was famous for, yet was something he didn't even really do) they wouldn't have to choose between their families and sanity. Which, if you actually knew anything about the Dark Lord, was exactly what they had to do. Because that son of a bitch was _not_ right in the head. But the main reason they didn't like Potter was because he was a self-righteous, poncy Gryffindor git who figured himself a hero and thought he could take down the big, bad evil wizard when he didn't even really know what darkness was, let alone _evil_.

"She's talking about the attacks on our Housemates today, Potter." Anton said scathingly. "I'm sure you don't know _anything_ about those, however. But in case you were wondering, that's the reason your Housemate is deep in a healing trance."

"A healing trance?" Granger asked incredulously. "Ginny's not a healer."

"Really, you don't say." Pansy replied sarcastically.

"What is my sister doing in a healing trance, then?" Weasley asked, his fists wrapped tightly in his robe.

"Trying to save Blaise's life." Melody said venomously. "Care to guess why that would be necessary?" Granger looked at her for a long moment before shaking her head in denial.

"You're not trying to say that _Gryffindors_ did this?"

"Oh yes," Melody crooned, "I do believe that's _exactly_ what I'm saying. If it makes you feel any better, which I sincerely hope that it doesn't, they weren't alone."

"What happened?" Granger asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What do you know about our friends?" She asked them, and Granger gave her a brief overview of what they had been told by Virginia, Draco and Blaise. She nodded in approval when the girl was done. "Right. Well, Blaise was hurt. Virginia's helping. The end."

"What!?" Weasley exclaimed. "That's it? I don't think so!"

"Umm, yes, about that." Pansy said, plastering a thoughtful expression on her face. "Information will cost you."

"Cost us!? What the bloody he-"

"Cost us what?" Granger asked, her hand having silenced Weasley by clamping over his mouth.

"Information." Pansy said with a satisfied smirk, leaning back into the arm Anton had slung around her waist. She could practically see the wheels turning behind Granger's eyes.

"Continuing information or just this one exchange?" Granger finally asked. Pansy met Anton's eyes briefly before using a trick Draco and Blaise had taught them, one that they themselves had discovered during long formal dinners when they were children. She traced a question with her fingertip on his thigh where her hand was resting, her nail sliding easily along the thick, rich, sinfully soft Egyptian cotton. He showed no outward sign that it was anything more that an overly friendly touch, while tracing an answer discreetly on her back with the hand resting against it.

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" Pansy replied, heeding his advice to wait and determine if what they offered was worth it.

"You first." Weasley said nastily.

"And why should we go first?" Anton asked, his silky voice taking on an edge. "You're the ones who are..._guests_ here."

"I must check on a few things." Severus said suddenly, rising to his feet. He shot them a look that the Slytherins understood perfectly. He was leaving them to their own devices, as it wouldn't be proper for a Professor to actively participate in such activities between students, but he expected a full report later. He turned to the interlopers just as he was about leave. "Harass my students, _Gryffindors_, and the detentions that you are still serving will seem like nothing." He then swept out of the entrance, leaving the seven of them alone with Draco, Blaise and Virginia's frozen forms.

"Well?" Granger finally asked. "What do you want to know?"

"Hermione, no-"

"Be _quiet_, Ron." Granger said, fixing a glare on him. She then turned back to Pansy, the same question in her brown eyes.

"We want to know what Potter's receiving through that scar of his." Pansy said bluntly, loving the severely surprised expressions on the trio's faces. "He must be channeling more than just scrambled images by now."

"How do you know about that?" Potter asked, looking as if he'd just received a nasty shock.

"Hey!" Weasley said abruptly. "My sister didn't..."

"Of course not, you bloody idiot." Melody snapped. "How could she? You never told her anything or included her in anything you did. It's your loss, though; that girl has one of the sharpest minds I've ever seen. No, you only really noticed her when she'd decided to rule her own life and in the process happened to acquire new friends that you didn't approve of."

"Are you actually trying to claim being her _friend_?" Weasley asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Melody, Pansy and Anton all answered in unison.

"But you don't have any real friends, not like normal people! You're _Slytherins_!" He exclaimed, but instead of seeing the angry denial that he'd been aiming for, the Slytherins simply relaxed, smug grins creeping across their faces.

"Yes, yes we are." Anton agreed pleasantly, looking quite satisfied about it all.

"But you're right, though, Weasley." Pansy said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "We don't have friends like _normal_ people. Ours are better. Whereas you and your friends might die for each other, our friends would do the same, but more. They would kill for us, as we would for them. And in the end, what do you think will keep you alive? Tears and some miracle because you're all so very majestic and noble? Think again, lionhearts. You believe yourselves prepared for war?" She asked, looking at them in turn. "Tell me, do you even know why Voldemort is called the Dark Lord?"

"You have to be kidding." Anton said after a few moments of silence. "Fuck this, Pansy. If they don't even understand what they're fighting, what possible information could they have that would be useful?"

"No!" Granger said hurriedly. "It's not our fault, it's just that-"

"They won't tell us anything!" Potter burst out. "Not _anything_! Dumbledore just sprouts unintelligible nonsense every time I see him, McGonagall's a stuffy old cow, and Si-Snuffles barely ever has a free moment. Everyone expects me to fight, really fight, not just escape from, this incredibly dangerous dark wizard, but they won't teach me anything _helpful_." He looked down after his rant and the Slytherins exchanged glances.

"Are you _serious_?" Pansy finally asked. "They want you to face off against Voldemort with only the spells they teach in this school?" Potter raised his eyes, looking sheepish and slightly defiant.

"Yes. And I will. I'm not scared."

"Then you're stupider than I thought." Anton said. "Anyone with half a brain has a healthy dose of fear for a Lord of the Dark."

"A Lord of the Dark?" Granger questioned. "I take it that's why he's called the Dark Lord, but what does it mean? I've never read anything about that title before."

"Apparently not." Pansy replied. "Which honestly no longer surprises me. I said you were clever, Granger, but I might have been wrong. I would have thought that _you_ at least would have acquired the appropriate texts and so forth, even if you had to sneak into Knockturn Alley yourself to get them. But I suppose not." Pansy said, looking slightly disappointed. "The title means what it sounds like."

"But what does the 'Dark' part stand for? The Dark Arts?"

"Partly." Pansy said with a sigh. It was sad, really, she thought. She'd known this stuff ever since she could remember. "But more. The Dark Arts are only the ripples on the outer shell of the void, and the void is Darkness personified, the living Dark. The primordial well from which everything came. But I doubt that I could explain it in any way and have it make sense to _you_. Suffice to say that you're completely fucked."

"Couldn't you teach us though?" Granger asked, and that completely floored the Slytherins. They looked at each other, seriously wondering if they'd gone simultaneously mad. Apparently, Granger's friends were thinking along the same lines, as they were currently staring at her as if she'd suddenly grown another head.

"_Teach_ you?" Melody echoed, and the shock wore away into laughter for the three Slytherins. A _Gryffindor_ had just asked them for help. Salazar must be rolling in his grave with glee.

"I'm serious." Granger said, her back rigid and her nose turned up.

"Hermione, you can't possib-"

"_Shut up, Ron_!" Granger snapped, her patience seemingly reaching its end. "We need all of the help we can get. _They're right_. Can't you see that past your hatred of everything Slytherin? We have no idea what to even expect besides death and destruction! Do you want to stand a chance of winning or not?"

"Look, Hermione." Ron said, his cheeks inflamed. "They wouldn't help us anyway. Have you forgotten who they are? _What_ they are? They'd go straight to their parents and You-Know-Who with anything we said or did! And, even if, by some microscopic chance, they don't particularly _want_ to be Death Eaters, they will be anyway! They're _Slytherins_, 'Mione, from the darkest families. Bad blood."

"_'Bad blood'!?_" The Slytherins hissed together in infuriated disbelief.

"_You_ want to speak to _us_ about bad blood?" Anton growled, the nails of his right hand digging into the leather cushion.

"Stop!" Granger said. "Please, just stop. Ron's an idiot." She said, glaring daggers at the red-headed boy.

"Very true." Pansy agreed, enjoying the turn in conversation. She could talk about the Weasel being a fool all night. "His ignorance is very nearly encyclopedic, isn't it?" Weasley made a choked noise, but another glare from Granger had him changing his mind about retorting.

"Really, though, would you consider it?" Granger asked, meeting Pansy's eyes and holding the gaze steady between them. When the Slytherin said nothing, Granger continued. "I know it wouldn't come without a price."

"Well, you're damn right about that." Pansy agreed.

"But would you consider it?" Granger repeated. Pansy tucked a piece of her chin-length hair behind one ear thoughtfully.

"In all honesty?" She finally asked, and Granger nodded. "I'm not sure. It's not really our decision in the end."

"Whose decision is it, then? Professor Snape's?"

"No. He leaves us to our own."

"Then who do you have to ask?" Weasley questioned with a nasty look on his heavily freckled face. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Oh, _honestly_." Anton said, rolling his hazel eyes. "We're not, nor are we going to be Death Eaters, you stupid, plebian little twit."

"You're lying!" Weasley very nearly shouted, and Pansy was quite glad for the permanent silencing charms that had always encircled the common room. "You're probably all just _dying _to become Death Eaters, and it's not like you would risk being disowned by refusing!"

"_Disowned_?" Melody asked in disbelief, saying aloud exactly what the other two Slytherins were also thinking. "Are you mad?" Weasley looked confused.

"But wouldn't your parents freak out if you refused to join You-Know-Who?"

"Of course." Melody replied. "But _disown_ us? I think not."

"But why wouldn't they?" Granger asked. "They have the power to do so and other heirs are still a possibility. None of your parents are exactly old by wizarding standards." The Slytherins could only stare for a moment.

"By Circe, they're as socially inept as they are magically!" Anton exclaimed. After the Slytherins' snickering had died down, the girl, Lauren, spoke up.

"I know why." She said, causing the Dream Team to do a double take.

"Look, it might actually be a half-decently educated Gryffindor." Pansy said dryly, one ruby lip curled up in a sneer. "So, what is it that you believe the answer to be?"

"There are a couple of reasons." Lauren started out hesitantly. "One is that most of your parents aren't power-mad from what my aunt says. She also says that most of them care for you, if not love you. But the main reasons now, I would think, are Draco and Blaise." The Slytherins grudgingly nodded their agreement, which caused the Golden trio to look skeptical.

"Why on earth would your parents care what two seventeen year old boys think?" Potter asked, his emerald eyes narrowed suspiciously behind his glasses.

"_Because_ they're seventeen now, you idiot." Pansy snapped. "Seventeen year old billionaires who recently inherited the two largest global corporations in our world. They _own_ our parents' flourishing businesses. One word from either of them and our parents are out of annual millions, which would force them to live off the vaults. And they don't want _that_, now do they? You'd be amazed at how much our mothers can spend in one go."

"Holy shit." Weasley murmured, mostly to himself. Then louder, "I suppose you're only friends with them so they won't cut off your monetary supply, then? Is that why you're nice to my sister?" He immediately knew that was not the smartest thing to have said while sitting in the dungeons, as the murderous looks the Slytherins gave him would have made a werewolf think twice.

"_Excuse me_?" Pansy asked through clenched teeth, her voice low and threatening. "You couldn't even _begin_ to understand our lives or the circumstances that made us friends. Keep your fucking mouth shut about shit you know nothing about. Unless, of course, you wish my assistance in removing your tongue." Weasley's mouth snapped shut automatically and he paled slightly at her malignant tone.

"Gods, I fucking hate Gryffindors." Anton said, lifting his eyes towards the high ceiling, the top of which was obscured by darkness.

"My sister's a Gryffindor, too, you know." Weasley muttered indignantly.

"No, she's not." Melody answered without even pausing. "Not to us."

"Will you tell me what's going on, now? Is she okay?" He asked, his voice the civilest they'd ever heard it when he was speaking to a Slytherin.

"If you apologize." Pansy said, an evil smirk on her face. Weasley blanched.

"For what?" He asked weakly, after receiving yet another glare from Granger.

"You know for what."

"Fine." Weasley said, then grew silent. This time, Granger jabbed him so hard in the ribs he nearly fell off the small couch. "Okay, okay! I'm...sorry." He said in a soft, tiny whisper before going into a sporadic coughing fit.

"What?" Melody questioned maliciously. "I'm afraid I couldn't hear you."

"I'm...very disappointed in myself and whatnot."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

"I shouldn't have said what I said." Weasley replied, once again being evasive after his first, rushed peep of an apology.

"And?" Granger prompted acidly.

"I'm _sorry_!" He finally burst out. "There, I said it! Now what the fuck is going on with Ginny?"

"Like I said earlier, Blaise was hurt." Pansy said with a glare. "As you know, he's a shapeshifter. Some sixth years trapped two of our fifth years at the base of the Whomping Willow. That particular tree has some nasty side effects on shifters, and he was banged up pretty badly. It would have been fine, as he got the fifth years to safety, but one of the limbs stabbed him in the lower back. Even that wouldn't have been too bad, considering his healing capabilities and Draco and Severus's knowledge, but sap got in the wound. It's usually deadly if it gets into a shifter's bloodstream, which it did." The Gryffindors were silent for a long time.

"Who did it?" Lauren finally asked, her eyes flickering between Blaise and the conscious Slytherins.

"Three Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, and one Hufflepuff who sprouted momentary balls. Lycelle and Devon said that Blaise gave them quite a scare when he leapt off a third story balcony out of nowhere, spitting curses at them in the old tongue. Sometimes, I really wish I had a Time-Turner. _That_ would definitely be worth seeing."

"Three Gryffindor sixth years, huh?" Granger asked, the wheels turning again. "All male?"

"No. One was female." Anton supplied.

"I see." Granger said, her face hard and a hand lifting to finger her Head Girl badge unconsciously.

"Right. Bloody horrible and all, but that still doesn't tell me why my baby sister, who is not any sort of healer, is currently in a goddamned healing trance." Weasley grumped.

"How do you put up with him all the time?" Pansy asked Granger off-handedly.

"With effort." Granger replied, flipping her slightly frizzy hair over her shoulder.

"Your sister is acting as Draco's second." Melody answered Weasley's inquiry. "She offered, and he needed someone strong if it's going to work. And before you say anything, she was the most logical choice. None of the rest of has enough training, not even Sev-Professor Snape. The only other person who could have taken either of their places is lying on that couch, half-dead."

"Malfoy's not a healer." Potter said derisively. "Even if he wanted to be, they would never accept someone like him."

"Correction: He would never be accepted by the White ranks." Pansy pointed out. "And he's too powerful and too dark for the Gray. But not a healer? Very wrong there, Potter. The only reason he and Blaise haven't been inducted into the Black ranks yet is because of that pesky Ministry law that says they have to be a year past their majority. And, since I can plainly see from your dumbfounded expressions that that was something you were unaware of, you now owe me. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Oh, this is _wonderful_." Weasley grumbled under his breath. "My sister is lost in a healing trance with _Malfoy_ as her only hope of getting back out. My mum is going to _kill _me." No one said anything to that, and they sat in relative silence. Pansy glanced up after a while and saw an expression of deep concern on Melody's pretty face. It worried her since the girl was actually showing unintentional emotion around Gryffindors.

"If you worry so, go and pray." Pansy told her absently, her thoughts still with her friends, wherever they might be.

"And what god would listen? Bacchus? Bes? Or perhaps Asclepius?" Melody deadpanned. "You know as well as I that the gods have not helped nor hindered in centuries. They stay in their realms, disgusted with the way muggles and wizards alike have turned out, and who can blame them? Cutting down their forests, ruining what they gave us, forsaking their worship…What god would not be angry?"

"Then spill your blood upon the altar." Pansy said automatically, barely thinking as the words spilled from her lips. "You are pure, you follow the old ways. If they heed anyone, it will be those whose lines have not been tainted, those who still pay homage. The first among us began as their children, after all."

"And what makes you think our blood will still serve as a beacon to them?" She asked, her voice more curious than bitter. "Many of the old families never turned their backs on the worship of earth and deity, and yet they still turned their backs upon us, punishing us for the wrongs committed by others of our race."

"Yes." Pansy agreed, the mention of the Gods' Abandonment bringing a chill to her blood as it always did. "But it is written that if they ever heed another's call, it will be someone who is still connected to them in an unbroken line." There was that damned shiver again. "And the days of glory shall be restored. Or so say the prophecies, anyway. But enough talk of the gods, we need t-" She stopped, her eyes growing wide and horrified as she caught sight of their friends inside the circle. The others followed her gaze, choked cries forming in their throats.

Draco, Virginia and Blaise were all still motionless, but their mouths were open in silent screams. Blood was trickling from their noses, their ears, the sides of their mouths, even from the corners of their eyes. Blaise had gone deathly pale and didn't appear to be breathing, his chest lying still and lifeless. Draco's skin was turning redder and redder as if he were burning up from the inside, sweat pouring off of him as blisters began forming all over his flawless features. Virginia's entire body that was visible was blue, ice crusting in her hair, eyelashes and robes, black spots of frostbite slowly appearing and spreading over her tinted flesh. Pansy's mind was screaming in denial as her numb legs carried her toward them, her only concern being deactivating the circle and getting to her friends, when the protective shield became briefly visible, wavering in the air before exploding outwards and slamming her head first into a wall.

………………………………………………………………………

Another cliffie! Don't worry, you find out what happened in the next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!


	6. Reverie

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia awoke to her name being called, and opened her eyes slowly. She then immediately bolted upright when she saw her surroundings. She had no idea how she'd gotten wherever she was and she could feel herself beginning to panic as she looked around. She was in some sort of tunnel; but the walls and ceiling were not made from stone or wood. They looked almost _alive_. The ceiling and floor were both squishy and moist, as were the walls. But the walls also had something different. There were dark blue vine-type things running through them and pulsing slightly, standing out vividly against the pinks and reds of everything else, and a faint white glow emanated from everywhere and nowhere.

But one of the things that she found the most disturbing was a loud, thrumming noise that was so low and deep that everything rumbled with it. The blue vines' pulsing matched the eerie drum-like sound perfectly and she had a sudden, strong desire to touch the strangely beautiful vines. Barely thinking, she reached out a hand only to have it snatched backwards. She screamed, spinning around with her free fist lifted, before she saw two things at once that brought her memory rushing back. A glowing purple cuff around her wrist and unmistakable mercury eyes. Said mercury eyes were looking at her with concern and seemed much more like they usually did than they had before in the common room.

"Do not touch the walls, ma soleil." Draco said, his grip on her hand lessening a bit. ((my sun))

"What happened?" Virginia asked as he helped her to her feet.

"An untrained mind can't make the jump and stay conscious." He replied as he watched her take a few experimental steps on the flexible floor. "Welcome to Reverie."

"I was hoping my first trip here would be under better circumstances." She murmured. Then louder, "I don't know why I wanted to touch the wall so badly. What is this place?"

"A healing road tuned specifically into Blaise through his blood. The walls represent his flesh and the beating his heart, but it's the veins that you have to watch out for." He said and she took a step back. Veins. Not vines. _Oh gods_.

"Why is that?" She questioned after a moment.

"They'll suck you into one or more of his memories." Draco responded as he began leading them down the passageway. "And, at best, it would only slow us down. But we can't afford even that this time."

"I thought you said he would stay in a suspended state until we either stopped the poison or failed?" Virginia asked, the worry once more beginning to eat at her insides.

"He will." Draco said, something dark flickering in his silver eyes. "But the longer he stays that way, the less chance there is that he'll fully recover." Virginia said nothing, allowing that to sink in.

"Alright, so we have to hurry. Where are we going?" She asked, and Draco figured there was no harm in explaining a few things while they were walking.

"To find the right poison path. Normally, a healer brings a locator charm with them, but my nose works just as well."

"You can smell it?"

"I've known the scent of Whomping Willow sap my entire life. My mother didn't want me having any preventable accidents, no matter how unlikely. The path will smell like the poison. Once you've become an Animagus, you should be able to do much the same."

"My senses must seem pretty pathetic to you." Virginia said morosely, still slightly miffed that she hadn't gotten to start the Animagus training yet. It was one of the things she was the most excited about learning.

"I find nothing about you pathetic, Virginia." Draco replied seriously, shooting her a knowing, exasperated look. He'd heard her complain about little else over the last few weeks.

"I just don't see why I can't-" Virginia stopped when she saw something moving towards them out of her peripheral vision from the direction they'd come from. "Draco?"

"I know. It's been gaining on us for a minute or so. Whatever it is, it has no pulse, nor does it breathe."

"It's something _dead_?" Virginia asked, picturing horrible zombies like the ones she'd seen in Egypt.

"I didn't say that. It could be a number of things that dwell here. Or something else." Draco added, and she didn't like the way that he'd said 'something else' at all. She started to take out her wand, a habit even though she no longer needed it as much, but he stopped her.

"First rule: No wands. They won't work here; Reverie is too closely intertwined with the void. Just imagine what you need. This may be the land of healing, of visions and memories, but it is the land of dreams as well. In some places, it may be impossible, but anything we conjure beforehand will stay with us."

As an example, he held out both hands, the purple cord stretching between them, and two swords materialized, his fingers automatically wrapping around the hilts. They were both beautiful and looked priceless. The sword he held in his left hand had a platinum hilt shaped into a fierce looking dragon, and his hand fit perfectly around the body. It was encrusted with emeralds and trimmed in ebony, but the dragon's eyes and the blade itself were what drew her attention. At first, they appeared made of ice, but upon closer inspection, she realized that they were diamonds coated with a layer of frost. Startled, she looked harder. She'd been around enough Slytherins lately that she knew what a diamond looked like, and she'd been right. The eyes were each a diamond the width of her fingernail, and the entire blade of the sword was a single chunk of the precious stone, although it appeared to be somehow _more_ at the same time. But even that didn't gain her attention as much as the fact that it was the sword from her dreams.

Glancing hurriedly at the other sword, she gasped even though she'd been almost positive of what she would see. The second sword was also one of the swords from her dreams. The only difference between them was that there was only one of each now instead of two. The second sword was as exquisite as the first, but the blade was made of an extremely rare black metal that she had only seen pictures of before. Ebentine. Indestructible and impossibly sharp, none of the metal had been seen in centuries except for bits and fragments. She looked back at the other sword, realizing what she hadn't the first time. It was not ebony trimming the platinum hilt of the first sword. It was more of the dark metal. The second sword's hilt was also made of the black metal and was formed into the hooded figure of Death. It was studded with emeralds and trimmed in platinum, and the tiniest wisps of energy ran over the surface of the ebentine, making it seem alive with shadows.

"Here." Draco said, extending the ebentine sword to her hilt-first. "It's Blaise's. It seems…appropriate, somehow, that you use it rather than some lesser blade." He said, releasing the sword when she took it.

"These are…"

"Yes." Draco agreed when she didn't finish. "They've been in our families for ages, but we're the first in centuries who can touch them."

"What? Why? I can touch them. Or at least this one." Virginia said, distracted by the shocks running through her palm from the sword. It reminded her of touching Blaise, which got her feet moving forward faster. Draco matched her increased pace easily.

"Well, you're an Elemental, cher un. Otherwise, you'd be dead." He said flippantly, his eyes trained on the shadowy passage ahead of them, though she would almost guarantee he was listening to the figure getting closer and closer to them from behind. ((dear one))

"Dead? The swords kill anyone who's not an Elemental?"

"Unless we have the safety on. Which we typically don't…" He trailed off as if remembering something, before shaking his head and continuing. "We added that feature, though. It was actually an idea inspired by a muggle weapon, and it was…necessary." He said and her mouth dropped, before she snapped it shut and started giggling.

"What?" He asked, glancing at her warily.

"_You_ two got an idea from _muggles_?" She asked incredulously. He shrugged.

"'Know thine enemy'." He said, completely unfazed. "Or at least their weaponry."

"Ginny!" A voice shouted from behind them, and they spun around, Draco placing her firmly behind him despite her protests.

"Whoever or whatever it is, Virginia, it will not be a friend. Illusion or enemy, but not a friend." Draco said under his breath as the figure drew up to them. Virginia gasped when she saw who it was.

"Mum!?" She asked, shocked. Her mother looked as she always did, but she had blood on her hands and tears running down her plump cheeks. There was a stupefied, haunted look in her eyes as their gazes locked, and Virginia felt a wave of confusion wash over her, distorting everything. Why was her mother here? Where was _she_? And why did her mum look so sad? There was something, something she knew she shouldn't forget, but it was so hard to think…

_'Then don't think.' _

Where had that come from? It had sounded like it came from right beside her, but neither Draco nor her mother had spoken. She couldn't concentrate, and her eyes kept going back to the blood on her mother's hands. Why was her mother bloody? And why was Draco looking at her so suspiciously? What the hell was going on?

_'They'll betray you. Even him. I won't, though.' _

There it was again. She glanced around, feeling slightly panicked, and the sword slid nearly out of her hand as she jumped when her mother spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny-baby." Her mum said, using her old nickname. More tears spilled down her mother's cheeks. What had happened? Why was her mother crying?

"Mum? What's wrong?" Virginia asked, but her voice sounded a million miles away. Draco clutched her hand, digging his nails into her flesh until she bled, and a little bit of sanity returned to her. She was here to help Blaise, that wasn't really her mother, she had to get that voice out of her head…As if summoned, it spoke once again and another wave of confusion swamped her.

_'Lies…Treachery…You will be betrayed. Trust no one but me, angel.'_

She had heard that somewhere before, but the thought was gone as soon as it came. Her mother spoke again, and the words twisted around in her brain, eating at something vital.

"So sorry…" Her mother sobbed. "I should have been there…Just got to the hospital…Asked Ahisma Patil to reach you by showing a sending of me to you…Your father's dead, Ginny." Her mother fell, almost in slow motion, crumpling to the floor and nearly shrieking in grief.

_'She speaks the truth, but I will heal you.'_

That was too much and the words joined together, slamming viciously into her mind. The sword fell to the soft, pliable floor as a choked scream left her throat. She could feel her mind begin to break, before a soft pulse of reassurance shot through her. She could think somewhat clearly again and her eyes snapped open, seeing Draco kneeling before her, glowing with dark power, one hand on her head, the other over her heart. His eyes were shining, the pupils split, and a murderous sneer was twisting his crimson lips. And suddenly, another voice entered her mind, opposing the first.

_'Draw back! You shall not break her!'_

_'Foolish youth! You know not who you toy with!'_

_'I _care_ not! Draw back or die!'_

_'You can not kill me. Not here. Not ever.'_

_'Perhaps. We shall see.'_

The last comment was followed by an explosion of power that ripped through her mind, yet somehow didn't harm her. It actually did the opposite; clearing away the last of the confusion and soothing the wounded edges of her psyche. The other, though, was not so lucky. A scream the likes of which she had never dreamed echoed back to her from the link, right before it snapped when the torrent of energy Draco had released slammed into it, and the howl was filled with pain, rage and a promise of retribution.

"Virginia?" Draco's silky voice questioned after the whirlwind of energy died down, and she glanced back up at her boyfriend. Except he didn't look like her boyfriend. He looked ethereal, quite like how she imagined the gods must have looked when they had taken human form in the past. There was still a dark cocoon of power encircling him and his eyes were neon silver, lit from within with a caliginous light. He looked tense, his muscles coiled; there was a feeling of battle-alertness about him and the power he was giving off was nearly choking, even for her. He must have sensed that, as he pulled it back almost immediately to a more comfortable level.

"Why are you still channeling?" She asked him, not particularly wanting to talk about the voices in her head yet, at least until she was positive she wasn't insane. He must have sensed that, too, and asked no questions. Shit, he probably knew more about what had just happened then she did anyway. She glanced down at her hand and noticed that the small wounds from Draco's nails had been healed, right as he spoke again.

"Once I draw on my power here, I cannot close it off again. It is one reason Blaise and I have never stayed in the visions for more than a day or two. If you allow yourself to be drained here, you will more than likely never leave." Draco replied, his voice like a velvet-coated melody. It was almost tangible, whispering over her skin in a sensuous caress, but what caused her to pause was the almost childish look on her lover's face, which was something she had never seen before.

"Ginny! Do you not care about your father at all?" Her 'mother' called in a raspy voice. Virginia turned slowly this time, looking at the replica of her mum.

"Be gone. You have no power here, _illusion_." Virginia hissed. The image of her mum wavered, then screamed, fighting against the ties that bound its kind. One of which was that upon discovery, it must disperse.

"You have not the power to banish me, vision-_crawler_! I am not working alone!" The illusion cried out, growing a little more solid. Virginia was surprised; she'd never heard of an illusion being able to hold its form after discovery. Draco glided in front of her, and when she looked down, she saw that his boots were barely skimming the floor.

"Will you name _me_ vision-crawler?" Draco asked, his voice deceptively smooth.

"No." The illusion replied, taking a step backwards and looking nervous. "I name you vision-walker."

"Good." Draco said, laughing happily, and held out his hand as if to blow the illusion a kiss.

A small vortex of whipping snow and freezing ice appeared above his outstretched palm, growing to the size of a human eye. A mirthful twinkle lit in Draco's eyes, and the sphere twisted into the shape of a pair of silvery-white lips. He pursed his own lips and blew, laughing merrily as the illusion turned and ran, the lips hitting it square in the back. It screamed again as the ice and snow grew, quickly covering its entire form in less than a minute. Draco very nearly skipped with glee as he went to the frozen figure and spun it around. The illusion's eyes were moving back and forth frantically, as the ice that would have killed anything alive only trapped it. But to an illusion, that was nearly as bad, since they had no concept of death as mortals do.

"Tsk, tsk." Draco mocked in a singsong voice. "Your going to be owing your superiors a big favor if they can get you out of this one, aren't you?" The illusion's eyes burned with rage, but Draco only laughed again. "Come on, Virginia. I don't think we're far from the path." A glazed look covered those starlight eyes for a moment. "Not far at all."

They started walking forward again, Virginia scooping up Blaise's sword and noticing that at some point, Draco had called in a black leather back sheath for his sword. She did the same, doing what he said to do and imagining a sheath that would fit both her and the blade. Moments later, she felt the odd weight of the sheath hanging down her back. Sliding the sword home with practiced ease, she sent a silent 'thank you' to her father and brothers for insisting that she learn basic sword fighting at the least, as most wizarding families still taught their children to do. Her mother had been against it, even though she herself knew a bit, but for once, they had overruled her. After all, duels and wars alike were fought the same way between their kind; a sword in one hand and a wand in the other.

"Draco?" Virginia asked, after two minutes of hearing him hum a Weird Sister's song and seeing him looking around, wide-eyed and cheerful. It was so unlike Draco that she had to say _something_.

"Hmm?"

"Are…Are you _okay_?" She said, not sure how to phrase it. Maybe she was just freaking out again or something. "I mean, you're just acting kind of…"

"Different?" Draco supplied with a bright smile that seemed all the brighter because of the dark energy surrounding him. At least it wasn't his Elemental power swirling around him, or she'd have to call on her own just to keep her body temperature above that of a corpse.

"Umm, yeah." She agreed, this 'new' Draco completely throwing her off track. How could someone who looked so dark and dangerous, who she _knew_ was dark and dangerous, still remind her of a Christian angel? How could someone so venomous and deadly have a face that could make Aphrodite weep? But, in a way, she supposed it made sense. After all, all dragons are beautiful until they bite off your head.

"The more accomplished one becomes at vision-walking, the more time you spend here. The more time you spend here, the harder it becomes to resist this land's pull on your mind. You learn resistance, but even that comes with a price. Today that price came like this. I've never felt so bubbly in my life." He said, something almost like a giggle escaping his lips, his dark eyelashes fluttering down momentarily and brushing against soft, glowing cheeks. "At least now I know how Blaise felt during that trance we did in Germany."

"Blaise experienced a side effect like this one?" Virginia asked, a ghost of a smile flittering over her lips at the thought.

"Just the once." Draco replied, and his nostrils flared slightly. "Yes." He breathed out in a hiss. "Come, we are close." He took her hand again and sped off down the passage, the red walls flying past them. He stopped suddenly and she saw that they'd come to a fork in the path.

"Which way?" She asked, sincerely hoping that he'd say the left. It looked much more appealing with its light pink walls than the other option did with its dark black ones. Of course, that was a passing fantasy.

"To the right." He said, and she took a deep breath as they entered the dark tunnel. The veins nearly blended in here, the only sign of them being telltale ridges. The tunnel was lit by a mysterious light here, too, but it was a dark blue instead of pale white. They had made it a good thirty feet or so down the path, when a red spider the size of a small cat scuttled out of the shadows.

Virginia moved back, lowering the tip of her sword, but Draco only grinned. The grin disappeared, however, when instead of moving towards them, the spider ran over to one of the walls and climbed up to about waist-height. It lifted one of its hairy legs and stabbed it into one of the veins on the wall, ripping down. Dark blood began pouring from the cut and the spider disappeared. Virginia glanced at Draco and saw that all his previous cheerfulness was gone as he stared at the blood gushing down the wall. The slit pupils in his eyes were growing, widening until only a thin line of silver was left on the sides, and his canines were elongating to form into dainty, deadly fangs. She could feel on an instinctual level that this was _very_ different then their blood-play. This was the blood hunger, brought on by the overwhelming scent of Blaise's blood in a land that twisted everything; which meant that she had to walk carefully and follow every rule of vampire etiquette that she could remember.

"Devoir nous poursuivre avant, mon maître? Je vais être honoré á se soumettrevous tout le sang vous besoin quand nous atteindre notre objectif." Virginia said, stringing the words together rapidly and praying that she'd gotten them right. She had to ask in his native language before he would, no, _could_ respond. That's why so many vampires had been found guilty of crimes in the past, because no one had realized how to ask them correctly until the Vampire Rebellion in the sixteen hundreds. Until then, many wizards had thought them soulless, like the Dementors. ((Shall we continue on, my lord? I will be honored to give you all the blood you need when we reach our destination.))

"Si vous dire." Draco said, the light musical tone from minutes ago gone and replaced by a voice like liquefied silk seduction. She could see him fighting with himself by the subtle clenching of muscles and the slight tick in his jaw, and she knew he was trying his damnedest not to rip her throat out. It's just the way things were for a vampire suffering from the blood hunger, especially in such close proximity to a mortal. And since Draco and Blaise both still fed off of the more-than-willing Slytherins regularly, so as not to drain her, she had never dealt with this before. They had, however, prepared her for it, and it was one of the main reasons they'd begun teaching her French immediately, and the reason the Slytherins could all speak it so fluently. ((So you say.))

"Faire vous n' rappeler ma sucré sang sur votre langue, mon maître?" Virginia asked, and Draco's hands clenched tightly in his robes. ((Do you not remember my sweet blood upon your tongue, my lord?))

"Oui. You may speak in English, if you wish." Draco finally said through gritted teeth, his eyes glued to the pulse at her throat. ((Yes))

"Then you know my promise of blood is good. Come, mon chou, we must find Blaise." Virginia said, holding out her hand. He took it, his razor sharp nails sliding over the delicate flesh of her wrist and sending delicious shivers down her spine. _Gods, I'm really fucked up if I'm even semi getting off on this. _When his hand slid out of hers and wound down to her waist, that suspicion was confirmed. ((my beloved))

"Blaise." Draco said, rolling the name around in his mouth as if it were a fine wine. "Oui, we must find Blaise." With a purpose besides feeding to dwell on, Draco gained a measure of his control back, however small. A vampire of a lesser bloodline would probably have already killed her, since she knew that the blood hunger was greatly intensified when in Reverie. They walked in silence, Virginia casting slightly nervous, sidelong glances at Draco every so often, until they reached a wooden door. It seemed very out of place among the fleshy walls and throbbing veins.

"Do we just go through it?" She asked and Draco gave a stiff nod.

She hoped he could hold out a little longer, because they had expressly told her not to let them feed when the hunger had them, in order to make sure there were no…accidents. And the only chance a human had for that to work was if they followed their etiquette perfectly. She pulled the door open and they went through slowly, looking around. They'd entered a huge chamber made out of the same stuff the passageway was. The Great Hall at Hogwarts could have easily fit inside it, and the light was brighter here even though the walls were still the same diseased-looking black. The room was plain, free of decoration, and there were four doors. One on the wall opposite from them and three lined up together to their right. They walked farther in and the door slammed shut behind them, causing Virginia to jump and Draco to curse. A voice neither of them had thought to ever hear again drifted from the shadows and it, too, sent shivers down her spine, but they were of an entirely different sort.

"Welcome, welcome. It took you long enough. I've been waiting for _ages_."

"Hello, Lucius." Draco said, showing none of his surprise in his expression.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Father' again?" Lucius asked, stepping out of the shadows. He (or it) looked exactly as he had the last time that Virginia had seen him in the papers. With the exception of the death photos, of course.

"You stopped being my father the day you wanted me to kneel at the feet of a deranged _mudblood_." Draco spat.

"You should have done what you were told!" Lucius countered, slamming the end of his ever-present cane into the soft flesh beneath them.

"I kneel before _no one_. You brought shame upon our line and not a single soul mourned you. When you die the final death, our kin will rip what's left of your soul into pieces." Draco hissed, unsheathing his sword and calling in its twin. His eyes were a swirling maelstrom of fury, the thin lines of silver being pulled towards the center in a continuous spiral.

"Angry you didn't finish me off the first time around?" Lucius taunted even as he retreated a few steps. Draco snarled, advancing on him.

"I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Draco, wait!" Virginia exclaimed, causing Draco to pause momentarily. "It's only another illusion, right? It's just baiting you!"

"No." Draco growled, his dark aura expanding to cover the twin blades in his hands. "This is no illusion. It's really him. Or what's left of him, to be more precise."

"Your death will be worth it, heir or not." Lucius sneered. "I had plans for you, you know. But, apparently, your lessons weren't…forceful enough."

"Oh, they were just _fine_, Lucius." Draco replied venomously. "There's nothing that will bring a father and son closer than a healthy dose of torture, after all."

"I didn't think of it as torture, per say." Lucius commented lazily, and Virginia had the strongest urge to gouge out his eyes. "More like _preparation_, you ungrateful little shit."

"Come off of it." Draco snapped. "I know as well as you do that you and Jeran both got a perverse pleasure from watching our blood run."

"You were both weak. We made you strong." Lucius countered. "It was nothing too different from what other families like ours teach their children."

"That is _bullshit_, Lucius, and you know it." Draco replied, with a look of utter disgust etched across his features. "Anton couldn't throw off the Cruciatus by the time he was five. Pansy wasn't led into death mazes before she was seven with her wand charmed to cast only the killing curse. And I can guarantee that neither have ever felt the lash of a demon whip or been left to their mercy. Not when they were nine, not now. Face it, Lucius. You were a terrible father. But don't worry; Severus has been filling in the role quite nicely, just as he always has. Oh, did I tell you? He and Mother married."

"_Narcissa broke our vows?_" Lucius roared, causing Virginia to jump and start to unsheathe Blaise's sword. Draco caught her eyes and gave a slight shake of his head. She let her hand drop back down to her side and prayed that he knew what he was doing.

"Vows?" Draco asked incredulously. "Surely you haven't deluded yourself to that extremity? Mother never wanted to marry you; she could see the taint inside you, waiting to grow, from the first day that she'd met you. And our kind's wedding vows, which I'm sure you recall, are binding for eternity. _Unless they are said with an unwilling heart_. So, _no_, Lucius. You have no bond mate that could petition for your salvation. You will burn with Hades for eternity." Lucius looked as if he had a momentary flash of fear, before his smirk returned. He moved his eyes from his son and placed them on Virginia, starting at her feet and working his way up. It made her feel dirty, as if he'd managed to leave a streak of filth on the inner barriers of her mind.

"And who is _this_, Draco? The girl our master's learned that you and Blaise have been fucking? Does she let you feed? Is she your little bloodslut?" Lucius asked nastily, and Draco's sword whipped out lightning quick. Lucius jumped backwards, but he was nowhere near fast enough. A long gash opened on his thigh, going from hip to knee.

"You shut the fuck up about her." Draco warned, an otherworldly light burning deep within his eyes. Lucius' eyebrows rose.

"You _care _for her?" He asked, his now-slightly-strained voice full of disbelief. "What a joke! You may be the first active Elemental in our line for a millennium, but the latent blood has run through us all. I know the complete coldness in your soul; I know the heart of ice you try so valiantly to deny. You claim to know love when you cannot even truly feel it."

"You lie!" Virginia said vehemently. "And he's already a better man than you ever were! All you are is lonely and jealous."

"Jealous?" Lucius scoffed. "Of what? You? You're probably not even a pureblood knowing this traitorous little brat."

"Oh, she's pureblooded, Lucius." Draco said, his sneer turning vicious once more. "I prayed I would find a way to tell you this before the final death, and it seems my wish has come true."

"Tell me what?" Lucius asked, looking like a petulant child.

"I think you can figure it out if you look a little closer." Draco said, a note of his earlier cheerfulness creeping back into his voice, although this time it was twisted with hate. Lucius turned back to her, his eyes searching. They widened suddenly and he shook his head in horrified denial.

"You see it now, don't you, Lucius?" Draco crooned, his silver gaze drinking in his father's petrified look hungrily. "May I introduce mine and Blaise's girlfriend, then?" He asked, and playing along since she, too, found Lucius' reaction quite satisfying, Virginia stepped forward.

"Virginia Adiena Weasley, Lord Malfoy. I wish I could say that it was an honor to meet you." That much was true at least.

"You can't be _serious_, Draco!" Lucius raged, finding his voice. "A _Weasley_!? You two couldn't stop at killing us? You have to pollute mine and Jeran's lines with that _filth_?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Draco's sword flashed again, this time slicing his arm to the bone before her boyfriend danced gracefully back.

"One more of those, _boy_, and you will regret it." Lucius snarled, and she realized that even though no blood was flowing, he still felt the pain of the wounds.

"Well, I've definitely heard that one before." Draco said with a thoughtful expression.

"You spiteful little bastard. We could have been great together!" The older man yelled. An unholy smirk spread across Draco's face as he slowly began to circle his father.

"I _will_ be great." Draco said, and Virginia noticed his swords were glowing with their own power, not just his. "Just not with _you_."

"Then with who?" Lucius asked, and she saw a malicious glint enter his gray eyes. "That Zabini you've been fucking? The boy's nothing but a useless whore; quite like your girlfriend here." Draco moved so fast that once again Virginia barely saw it happening; one second he was at her side, the next his swords were buried in his father's chest. Lucius laughed as he looked at the blades embedded in his chest, and then met his son's eyes.

"You think to kill a revenant with two puny little swords like these?" Lucius asked mockingly and Virginia stifled a gasp. Revenants were witches and wizards who made a pact with demons as they died. They were allowed a half-life in Reverie, and were pretty much allowed to do as they wished. The only way for them to return to the mortal world, however, was for a Dark mage to call them through a rite of sacrifices. The art was all but lost, though it was rumored that a few still had the knowledge. Revenants could be killed, but only with a relic crafted by the hands of a deity. For a moment, she had a flash of pure, basic, primal fear; but Draco was always just full of surprises.

"Of course not, _Father_. Look again, for I hold blades that hold your final death." Draco said, a genuine smile raising the corners of his blood-red lips. Lucius looked down and his eyes widened as if something shocking had just been revealed to him, while Virginia felt the telltale shiver of a broken glamour spell.

"NO! These are not the swords you just held!" Lucius started, and then stopped as the power running along the swords' blades pulsed, Draco's smile growing all the wider.

Lucius screamed, and his head was thrown backwards as his body convulsed. It was followed by another pulse and another scream, before Draco's eyes slipped closed. The dark halo of energy surrounding him began feeding into the swords, which turned an almost blinding silver. A final shockwave of power pulsed outwards and Lucius's body crumbled into ash at Draco's feet. Dark brown sparks floated out of the pile, rising in curvy, dizzy lines upwards. A ripping sound echoed through the room, and Virginia could do nothing but stare as the air split open and a portal of some sort appeared out of nowhere. Ghostly white hands reached out, scooping up the tiny brown globes of light none-too-gently. Draco's smile had turned into one of satisfaction and a sudden thought came to her.

"Draco, those aren't your _ancestors_' hands, are they?"

"Did you think I was lying?" He asked, turning to face her.

His eyes were still violent whirlpools and there was a slightly mad look inside of them. He slid both swords into their sheathes, and she'd completely missed him calling the second sheathe in. She was about to respond, when the last of the brown balls zipped away from a translucent hand, gave an almighty shriek, and exploded. Something happened then that she couldn't really explain. It felt as if she was being ripped in half, and her knees gave out as she felt something being forcefully stolen from her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, scorching her skin, but all she knew was a desperate, aching emptiness that had filled her from head to foot. Clenching her fists, she raised her head and saw that Draco was barely keeping his feet, one hand clutched to his chest. But the biggest difference was the lack of power surrounding him and the swords. It was gone, but she knew that couldn't be right, as he'd said he couldn't shut it down while still in Reverie. The purple cord that had bound them together had also disappeared, and it made her feel slightly naked.

"Draco? Mon coeur? What happened?" She asked, crawling towards him as she fought the feeling of helplessness and depression rising inside of her. He looked over and fell to his knees beside her as she reached him. ((my heart))

"He managed to somehow bring the shields around the room down. It's a vacuum, one of the places that I told you no magic or conjuring of any kind will work in." Draco said, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair.

"The blood lust?" She asked, looking down at where their hair was loosely intertwined.

"Gone, along with all the rest of my magic." He said, and she shivered, moving closer to him. She had never felt so wretched in her entire life. At least she knew what the splitting sensation had been. Her magic being taken from her.

"We _do _get our magic back, right?" She asked, a note of panic entering her voice at the very thought of being forever handicapped in such a way.

"Yes, as soon as we can find a way out of this room and back into a shielded part of Reverie. And I can pretty much guarantee we won't be leaving the way we came."

"Why?"

"Look." He said, pointing to where they'd entered the cursed room. The door that had admitted them was gone, nothing but more of the sickly black flesh barring the way. The other doors remained, and after a few minutes, they were reoriented enough to stand and keep their feet under them. The hole in the air was gone, as were all of the brown balls.

"Have you ever had this happen before?" She asked as they made their way to the three doors on the side wall.

"Yes." He said, his hand a comforting weight in hers. "And these areas stay under constant watch. Whatever we must face to leave this place will more than likely not be pretty."

"What do you mean? How do you know for sure that we'll even run into anything? We're almost to the doors now." Virginia said, looking at the twenty or so feet they had left to go. Draco was wary, his eyes constantly moving, and it unnerved her. It usually wouldn't have, but everything was so different, as if she'd been blinded. The natural feel of the void's magic was gone, as was her link to the Elements. It was worse than losing a limb.

"That we are." Draco agreed. "And already it takes form." He said, and her head snapped back up.

There were patches of what looked like fog coalescing in the air, and they were soon shaped into something resembling a human form, but it was three feet too tall and its limbs were segmented like an insect's. It began filling out with color and substance, and Virginia felt another quick bolt of fear as she recognized the creature from drawings in the seventh years' DADA books. It was a bicorn, a demonic being but not a demon. It moved strangely and had two long, curving horns, one on each side of its head. Its skin was a mottled gray, yellowish-green spots spread across it here and there. It had three long fingers that were also segmented and a thumb three times as long as a human's. Its face was a mask of charred flesh and sagging skin, and its eyes were almost the same sick brown color that Lucius's spirit had been. The thick, choking, sulfuric scent of demonic magic hung heavily in the air around it and Virginia wanted nothing more than to get away from the foul creature.

"Hail, Guardian." Draco called from where they'd stopped, about ten feet from the…thing. "What challenge do you issue us this day?"

"She is not a walker." The thing said in a scratchy, hissing voice. "What think thee by bringing her here, Black Healer?"

"I am not a healer yet." Draco argued. "Your kind knows that well enough."

"As thee wish, Draco." The bicorn intoned. "But we also know that it's only because of pesky mortal traditions and laws. Join us, young one. We would make thee great, as thee said thee would be."

"I need no help from you and yours, Guardian." Draco replied, an edge in his velvety voice.

"Aye, but help from my masters would aide thee well. They've wanted thee, as I'm sure thee know, ever since their very first taste." The thing said, and Draco stiffened next to her. "Oh yes, they enjoyed thy…_company_ quite well. And thy pretty boyfriend's, too. Thee were both the talk of Hell and Tartarus for years. Still are from time to time. Everyone wants a taste of the two of thee; the boys whose blood made the Low Lord scream. And now that thee are older…I'm sure that for a little ganashing they would hand thee the world." The bicorn said the last mockingly, but the rest he'd been frighteningly serious about.

"Ganashing?" Virginia questioned, trying her damnedest not to let her fear leak into her voice. "What is that?"

"You don't want to know." Draco said in an undertone. Then louder, "I have told you and your kind before and I will tell you again: I want no help from demons or _your_ half-breed ilk. The void's power fills me just fine."

"Do not think the Deep Lords know nothing of thy and thy lover's newest hobby. Grow much stronger at it and they will crush thee." The thing snapped, its spittle hissing and steaming when it hit its skin. Draco sneered.

"Yes, so we've heard before. I'm beginning to think that the Deep Lords are not as fearsome as I once thought. If our blood affected them so much when we were children, they would crawl at our feet for a taste of it now."

"A Deep Lord bows for no one but the Low Lord and the High Kings!" The bicorn screeched, its voice like nails scraping over china.

"For a creature as old as yourself, you have a horrible memory." Draco taunted. "In case you've forgotten, which it seems you have, the Deep Lords have bowed to no one else, but only since Lucifer joined with Hades. That joining is what called all of the Elementals to the two High Kings and froze their bloodlines. But now…Three of the bloodlines have thawed, Guardian, as you well know. Our kind were the only beings besides a Lord of the Dark and the White Wanderers that the demons ever feared. And now they've grown careless and fearless since the Elementals and the White Wanderers disappeared, grown stupid and lazy as the Dark Lords forsook what they were meant to be and became power-mad. So I know damn good and well what your precious Deep Lords would do for my blood, unable to help themselves, unable to resist its sweet, siren call." He said the last in a singsong voice, laughing as the wannabe demon spluttered, then roared.

"I will play no more of these games with thee!" It shouted, its skin turning a bright red with its anger and making it look like a freshly boiled lobster. "Thy challenge is to find the right door by answering each door's riddle. If thee answer all three correctly, a forth riddle will be given. Answer it and the correct door will be shown to thee. From there thee must defeat the door's sentinel. Should thee survive, the way forward is thine to take. Simple enough, yes?" The bicorn asked, and Virginia didn't like the queer look in its eyes.

"Just let us hear the riddles, Azelmurkinordiliag." Draco said, and the bicorn flinched at the sound of what Virginia supposed was its name.

"As you say, vision-walker. Behold the first." It said, waving its long, multi-jointed arm at the far left door. A high, tinny voice floated through the air, sounding like a thousand four year olds speaking in unison.

"_I drive men mad for love of me; I'm easily beaten, but never free_."

"You have thirty seconds to discuss it between you." The bicorn said, looking anxious. Draco and Virginia turned slightly away from it and quietly conversed.

"Power?" She asked, thinking of all the people throughout their history that had been driven insane by it.

"No." Draco said thoughtfully. "Power itself cannot be beaten, as it has no real form. It simply jumps from one to another."

"'Easily beaten, but never free'." Virginia murmured to herself, thinking furiously.

"I've got it." Draco said, his eyes on the Gryffindor tie around his throat. He turned back to the bicorn. "It's gold." He said, and the bicorn nodded reluctantly, looking disappointed.

"Correct. Next."

"_Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it can neither see nor feel it_." A different voice intoned, this one mighty and booming, reminding her of waves hitting the shore.

"Only Draco may answer this time, and no conversing is allowed. Thirty seconds." The bicorn said as the last of the deep voice faded into nothing. Virginia could feel her insides churning. What if he didn't know or couldn't figure it out? What if they couldn't make it in time to help Blaise at all? And the most stressing question she had at the moment was if they got a question wrong, could they fight their way past the bicorn without their magic? She wasn't too worried about Draco answering his riddle, but if the creature singled her out next…Well, she had never been any good at riddles.

"Time's up. Does thy have an answer?" The thing asked, and Virginia looked towards Draco nervously.

"A crypt." He drawled, looking bored. The bicorn actually stamped one clawed foot, letting out a stream of what she was sure were obscenities, but it was in a rough, clipped language that she doubted a human throat could reproduce.

"I will enjoy the day they break thee, Draco Malfoy!" The bicorn huffed, its skin turning a deep mahogany. "The day when thee gives in! They will lock thee in a davascian cell for eternity, and thee shall be their slave! The mighty Malfoy, a pet of demons!" The creature said, laughing shrilly.

"We shall see who slaves for whom, Azelmurkinordiliag." Draco retorted, and the sound of that name again had the creature paling rapidly. "Give the third riddle before my patience runs out."

"I detest thee." The bicorn spat. Draco gave it a look that said the feeling was entirely mutual. Virginia was pretty positive at this point that the two had met before, especially as Draco knew the creature's name. She wondered what he had done for it, since anything as seriously touched by demon magic as the creature in front of them never gave their full name freely. Shit, they never gave _anything_ freely. And actual demons were even worse about it. "Carry on, then."

"_I am glittering points that downward thrust, sparkling spears that never rust_." Yet a different voice said in a sweet tone that rose and spiraled like birdsong.

"Only the girl this time, no conversing. Thee has thirty-one seconds since thee is not a walker." The bicorn said, a lousy version of a smirk on its too-thin lips.

"How generous." Virginia muttered distractedly, her thoughts already on the riddle.

What had glittering points? Knife tips? Needles? And sparkling spears…She was hopeless at this kind of thing. Frustrated tears sprang to her eyes, but she fought them back. Crying in front of Draco was one thing. Crying in front of this haughty demon-groupie was something entirely different, and was something that she simply refused to do. Why did this have to be their challenge? She would rather have faced some horrible monster or something, _anything_ that she could do better than this. She hated riddles; she had her entire life. And now, when she desperately needed to answer one, she was going to fail. Blaise's life depended on her, and she'd never felt so hopeless in her life, not even in her first year. When she had less than seven or eight seconds left, she lifted her gaze to Draco, intending to let him see the defeat in her eyes so he would be prepared. His own eyes were glittering ice and pulled at her as they always did. _Wait, glittering ice_?

"Time. Give thy answer." The bicorn called as her mind worked in overdrive, spurned on by desperation and adrenaline. Glittering ice…Sparkling spears…

"I said give thy answer!" The creature shouted when she hesitated, and she saw Draco start reaching for his swords.

"An icicle!" She blurted, praying to every god that she could think of to let her be right. The bicorn shook its head and her heart fell to her toes before she realized that it was shaking in anger and that Draco had a triumphant smirk plastered across his lips. He grabbed her and spun her around, laying kisses over every inch of her face and the sides of her neck.

"I knew you could do it!" He said as she laughed. "You're brilliant!"

"Hey, you got two of them!" She said as he sat her down and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Still here, as I'm sure thee knows!" The bicorn shouted, its face screwed up with unhappiness and loathing. "And thy must now answer the final riddle. Either of thee may give the answer, but no speaking between thee. Understood?" It asked, and when they nodded, it waved a mottled hand.

"_What does man love more than life? Fear more than death or mortal strife? What do the poor have, and the rich require? What do contented men desire? What does the miser spend and the spendthrift save? What do all men carry to their graves_?" The voice this time was sweet and tinkling, like running water bubbling over rocks in a spring brook.__

"Forty seconds." The bicorn bit out before leaning against the wall next to the row of doors. Virginia was truly stuck on this one, just as she had been on the other. It had only been luck that she'd thought of Draco's eyes like glittering ice and had made the connection. She saw no such miracle happening again. All she could do was pray that Draco knew the answer. If he didn't, then they really had no choice but to try to fight the bicorn, magicless or not. Draco might be able to manage, but she wasn't sure she could take a bicorn yet even with her magic. You weren't supposed to learn defense against them until the first year of University, let alone offense.

"Time." The bicorn called, while Draco's eyes once more met Virginia's as if to ask, '_Did you think of anything_?', and she let out the breath that she'd been holding.

"Nothing." She said, answering his silent question aloud.

The bicorn let out a sudden scream of fury that sounded like banshees and breaking glass. Draco was smiling again and she was utterly lost. _What the hell is going on_? The creature was beating its fists into the wall behind it and screaming about someone promising it that it would get his revenge and that it had been assured that they wouldn't be able to answer them all. That was the second time that something trying to stop them had mentioned not working alone, and Virginia's mind was reeling. Something besides the normal dangers of Reverie was trying to stop them, but how could anyone or anything have even known that they would come? Blaise's injury had been spontaneous, so it's not as if whoever it was could have been prepared. And Lucius had mentioned earlier that the Dark Lord was aware of her relationship with the two Slytherins, even though he must not have known who she was, but neither should have been possible yet since they'd only come out about it earlier that day.

"Fine!" The bicorn bellowed. "Fine! But I will have my pound of flesh! See the creature they mean for thee to fight!" It waved its hand again, and the middle door started glowing a bright blue.

A massive creature began forming in front of it, standing at least ten feet tall while being bowed over like an ape. It had five humongous, stubby legs that were as big around as tree trunks and heavily muscled, low-slung arms. Six eyes stared back at them, each as beady and black as a shark's, and it had a huge, gaping mouth that rounded off into a short snout and was filled with what looked to be over four rows of jaggedly sharp teeth. It had a perfectly rounded head the size of a large cauldron and two open holes for nostrils. It stared at them hungrily, and thick, greenish-yellow saliva dripped in a continuous stream from its muzzle. It was covered from head to foot in brownish-red fur that was filthy and hanging in smelly dreadlocks. She recognized it immediately for the mostly-immortal beast that it was, a quintaped, and thanked the gods that they had the swords they did. Anything that can send a revenant to the final death should work on the man-eating creature before them. Hopefully.

"Do you know how to kill it?" She asked Draco under her breath. He already had his swords drawn and was pushing the two of them back towards the center of the room so that they'd have more room to maneuver.

"Yes." He said, moving with an inborn grace that had nothing to do with magic. "Its third heart lies right beneath the skin of its left shoulder blade. The others are too hard to reach and only a heart shot will kill it. Because of the swords we carry, any wounds we inflict will slow it down, but not by much. It has Achilles heels just as humans do, and that's the next best place to aim for. Its skin is as thick as a whale's but these blades can cut anything. It is also quite fast, even though it doesn't look it." There was an odd note in his voice as he spoke and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The creature seemed to be taking its time in reaching them, and they had finally made it to the center of the room, close to where they'd encountered his father.

"What are our chances?" She asked him as she drew Blaise's sword. "Seriously." She added, not wanting him to sugarcoat it if they were about to die.

"With magic, this would be easier than breathing and we would already be gone." He said, his predator-like eyes never leaving the lumbering giant moving towards them. "Without it?" He said nothing for a few seconds, and when he seemed satisfied that the thing wouldn't reach them for a good minute yet, he turned to her, pulling her close and looking in her eyes. "You are good with a blade, ma aimé, but this may be beyond even my skill, as I will be moving as slow as a mortal. My shapeshifter blood lies quiet in this room, as does the vampiric. I need a promise from you." He said, and an ominous feeling filled her gut. ((my love/beloved))

"What?" She asked hesitantly.

"Stay back. I will get you through the door one way or another. Promise that you'll stay back no matter what and help Blaise. He can't die. He just _can't_. Please, do this for me. I need to know that the two of you will be safe." He said, his eyes boring into hers. She was almost positive that was the first time she had _ever_ heard him say please (well, outside of their bedroom, at least). But she really didn't know if she could give her word on something like that. He almost sounded as if he didn't think he'd survive this fight, and that terrified her. She was saved by answering as the quintaped drew close to them and Draco's attention was ripped away. He pushed her back with enough force that she stumbled, before he twisted back around agilely, his blades crossed in front of him. The creature screamed as it started closing in, and she scooted even farther back unconsciously.

"Draco-" She started, her voice wavering as fear like she'd never known crashed through her. Draco's admission of uncertainty threw her off as nothing else ever had and the ground didn't seem as solid under her feet.

"_Get back_." Draco hissed as the creature drew even with him and swung one massive arm in a wide arch. He'd been right; the creature, for all its slowness in getting to them, was surprisingly quick. Draco blocked and the creature's arm slammed into the flat of his blade. It knocked him to the side and the only reason he didn't fall was because he leapt with the blow and used the force of the impact to twist away. His eyes met hers for the briefest millisecond and his words barely reached her ears through the creature's enraged howl.

"Je t'aime." The words washed over her like a sensuous whisper and she once again felt like crying. ((I love you))

"Je t'aime aussi." She whispered back as the quintaped swung again, it's dripping, obviously-poisonous claws outstretched. ((I love you too))

Draco waited until the last second before back flipping away and swiping down with his sword at the same time. The creature screamed as the diamond blade sliced through its usually impenetrable hide, and dark, greenish blood began leaking sluggishly out of the wound and matting in its fur. It spun swiftly and its blow landed true, striking Draco as he found his footing once more. He flew through the air before slamming into the pliant floor. He sprung back to his feet almost immediately, although he was favoring his right side where it had hit him. The quintaped didn't wait, but charged again immediately. Draco missed the creature slamming into him full-on by less than half a foot.

The creature apparently couldn't stop very fast, and it slipped in the pile of Lucius's ashes that were still on the floor. It crashed to the ground, hard, and Draco was on it in a second. His blade cut almost halfway through the back of one of the quintaped's ankles, slicing easily through the Achilles tendon. The roar that issued forth from the creature that time was nearly deafening, and Draco was dancing back out of the way before it was over. Hauling itself to its feet and keeping off the hurt one, it barely seemed to heed the gushing wound after the initial burst of pain. Fuming, it came at him slower, its eyes burning and drool practically flowing from its lips. It swung again and Draco danced backwards, nearing one of the walls.

Another swing, and Draco caught its forearm between the twin blades of his swords. He leapt and twisted again, doing…_something_ with his wrists, and the blades slid through bone like butter. One blade stuck and was ripped from his grip, bouncing lightly along the ground. The creature didn't seem to realize what had happened at first, which was just as well since Draco slipped in the blood that it had trailed across the floor. He fell, rolling in one smooth motion to his feet and ignoring the side that had been hurt earlier. He looked like a cornered, feral animal, and he didn't even flinch as the creature bellowed. It picked its own severed arm up and stood stupidly for a moment, trying to put it back where it had been.

After realizing it was a futile effort, it threw the arm at Draco, who rolled to the side, staying in a crouched position. It charged again, but when Draco dodged to the left, it followed his movement in a blur, splattering blood all over him as it hit him with its bloody stump. He flew backwards again and landed on his other sword, his head slamming into the hilt with a gut-wrenching 'crack'. He lay still, not moving a muscle, and Virginia didn't even realize she was sobbing until she felt the tears pouring down her cheeks. As the creature sped back towards Draco, her feet moved unthinkingly. What happened next happened so fast that she could barely recall it. All she knew was the quintaped hovering over Draco, its remaining fist rising for a killing blow.

She swung Blaise's blade, putting every ounce of her fear and rage, despondency and desperation into it, and the next thing she knew, the creature was crashing to the ground, one of its legs severed as cleanly as its arm had been. Draco, who had a growing pool of blood spreading from beneath his head, twisted to the side, his eyes flying open and his arm shooting out. His blade slid home behind the quintaped's left shoulder blade, sinking in nearly to the hilt. The creature didn't scream that time, only stiffened, a deep, gurgling sound rumbling forth from its throat. It twitched and jerked, flailing around on the ground, and Virginia went to Draco's side and dragged him out of the way the best she could. He tried to help her, but he could barely keep his eyes open and his breathing was irregular and strained.

"Draco?" She asked, her voice croaky. Clearing her throat was nearly impossible, as it seemed to be clogged with unshed tears. "Love, please answer me." His eyes fluttered again and a groan escaped his lips.

"Is it dead?" He asked, his voice so soft she nearly missed it.

"Yes." She said, the damned tears still falling freely. "You killed it, cher un. You did it." ((dear one))

"You were supposed to stay back." He whispered, trying to sit up. She helped him, knowing that even while he was in this condition, it would be pointless to argue with him.

"I couldn't. Not when I saw you fall. You should have known that." She said, and then gasped as she saw the damage his sword's hilt had caused. She could see bone through the split in his skin, and the skull looked…She was pretty sure that she was about to be sick. How was he even conscious? Without his healing abilities, she was almost certain the wound would be fatal. She had to get help, she had to…Wait! They had won! She craned her head around and saw the bicorn standing over the quintaped's body and looking at it disgustedly.

"We're leaving." She said, her tone making it clear that there had better not be any disagreements.

The possible death of one of her boyfriends had been enough to get her to go into a healing trance when she knew that there was a good chance she wouldn't make it back. The possible deaths of them _both_, however, had her ready to face a Deep Lord barehanded if need be. The bicorn seemed to sense as much, and bowed mockingly in agreement. The next couple of minutes were spent helping Draco (who refused to be dragged again) walk to the door that they were supposed to go through. They finally reached it, but Virginia had to stop to throw up in the corner when a tiny piece of pink matter slid down the back of Draco's neck and through his hair. He didn't seem to feel the wound at all, however, and his eyes were fever-bright and slightly glazed.

"Draco, love, can you hear me?" She asked when he didn't so much blink as she grabbed his arm again. His head turned minutely slow, and his lips twitched, but no sound came forth. He was teetering and she knew she didn't have much time left. She had to get him out of this gods-forsaken room so he could heal himself. She got them to the doorframe and threw the wooden door open. There was nothing on the other side but darkness and she had a moment of confusion before two things happened at once. The darkness began pulling at them viciously and Draco's voice once more exploded inside her mind.

'_No! It's a trap! A portal straight into the void! It will fill us until we break with the power, turning our energy against each other! If we go through, we are lost and so is Blaise!_'

She began fighting the pull, desperately trying to hold on to the doorframe and to Draco. He somehow managed to lift a hand and sink claws into the wood, and she realized the open portal was feeding them a tiny bit of magic if he was able to do that. Pulling on every bit that she could get, she fought fiercely to keep them from being drug into that heavy, deadly darkness. She felt her nails begin to rip off right before they did all together. She was sucked in, her hand in Draco's the only thing keeping her from going all the way through. His own claws were ripping out, which was testament to how strong the suction was, as they could normally carry him and something four times his weight up the side of a stone wall.

When his claws finally gave under the tremendous pressure, the last thing they heard before they were sucked through the portal was the bicorn's gleeful laughter. Then they were twisted and spun, flipped and thrown, before crashing through what felt like a ward of some sort. Seconds later, a crushing weight seemed to fall all around her, tightening until air was just a distant memory. The next thing she knew, she was being frozen from the inside out and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it. She had lost Draco's hand somewhere, and the panic swirling in her brain was overwhelming. She could feel the ice and frost eating away her life piece by piece, and she fleetingly found it cruel that they were to die by having their own magic turn against one another.

A sudden image bloomed into her mind and her soul screamed as she took in the scene laid before her. Draco was dying, his organs burning up and bubbling under the skin of his stomach, while his beautiful, flawless flesh was nearly at the point of liquefying. Blaise was lying next to him, stiff and lifeless, his chest still and his skin a pasty grayish-blue. Both were bleeding from their noses, ears, eyes and mouths, but it was slowing as their hearts gradually stopped. She felt her own begin to beat sluggishly and felt phantom blood running over her skin as the weight around her constricted even tighter. As the freezing agony covered her face and seeped into her skull, as the vision that was worse than any nightmare faded, she sent a single, silent prayer spiraling into the darkness, into the void.

'_Take my life, take my very soul, but spare the ones I love._'

Then blackness dominated everything and she wasn't aware of the two other spirits crying out with the same plea before they, too, were sucked under.

……………………………………………………………………………

Please review!!!!


	7. Dark Stars Shining

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Side Note**: To clear up any confusion, a 'pantheon' is, and I quote, 'All the gods of a people considered as a group.' Example: Zeus is the head of the Greek pantheon. Okay, onward!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Awareness came back to her with a sudden jolt, and Pansy sprang into a sitting position. Her head was pounding and it felt like the bone in her arm had just been re-knit. The first thing that registered in her foggy brain was the sound of people sobbing and yelling, their voices full of fear and panic. The second thing was seeing Severus looming over her, looking more disheveled and wretched then she had ever seen him before. His face was a pasty gray color and his hands were actually shaking. She wondered at it before she shook herself fully awake and remembered everything up until the shield exploded, which it shouldn't have done no matter what the three of them had run into in Reverie.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice cracking and her throat sore. Looking around, a nasty, sinking feeling spread throughout her body. She couldn't see Draco, Blaise or Virginia for the crowd of Slytherins who must have been drawn by the explosion. She doubted the normal-level silencing charms had held up against _that_. They were all in various stages of disbelief and distress, and a few were openly crying.

"It's early Saturday morning. You've been out for a while. They didn't make it." Severus said, his own voice rough. Still looking dazed, he leaned over far enough to touch his wand tip to the stone floor, and spoke a spell that she vaguely remembered would alert Dumbledore.

Denial coursed through her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Pushing past the outer ring of her Housemates, she made her way to their center. When they saw her, they moved out of the way, shock written plainly across their faces. Stumbling, all grace forgotten, she made it clear of the last of them. She forced her eyes down, forced herself to look at what she already knew, yet couldn't believe. Tears choked her for the first time in years as her eyes took in the scene before her. Melody was crying in Anton's arms, both of them on their knees beside Draco and Blaise. The Gryffindors were splayed out around them, Granger and Lauren sobbing raggedly as Weasley held his sister's body in his arms, his face red and tear-stained, while Potter's hand rested on his shoulder.

But it wasn't until she really looked at Draco, Virginia and Blaise that it hit home. Their bodies were ravaged and becoming worse by the moment, as if whatever had killed them in Reverie was still working on them. All of Virginia's skin that was visible was a frostbitten bluish-black, and it was beginning to look flaky, as if she'd just disintegrate any moment into nothing more than a pile of dust. Weasley's own skin was turning blue where it came into contact with her, and he was shivering violently, though Pansy doubted it was just from the cold. She could barely believe that it was the same girl she'd become friends with over the last couple of months. But it was when she saw Draco and Blaise that something broke inside of her.

She had known them both since she was a child, her parents having left her at one Manor or the other numerous times when they'd had a trip or a business party. She had never had the same level of closeness with them that they had with each other, but few people ever did and it hadn't bothered her. She had always known they were special, and as a little girl, the bond they had together was just another secret of the mysterious, magical world that they lived and breathed in every day of their lives. They had accepted her after the first initial, judging looks that she hadn't recognized for what they were until years later. Ever since, they had looked after her, covering for her when she broke something or accidentally hexed an important guest.

Even though they had stayed at both of the boys' Manors, one in France, the other in Italy, they had always gone shopping with their mothers in Paris and such, thus growing up in an almost purely French environment. They hadn't begun exploring Italy until they were almost eleven, although they had traveled nearly everywhere else by then. Her parents' estate was on the border of Spain and France, right between two muggle towns, Jaca and Pau, though she only spent a few months of the year there, even before Hogwarts. But her favorite times had been those she spent with them, exploring the dusty, forgotten passages within their homes that no one, not even the house elves, had bothered with in decades, and practicing their spellwork.

They had always made everything interesting, and above all else, they had loved her in a way that her parents had never been fully able to. They treated her as a sister, and she naturally responded the same way, looking at them as the (slightly) older brothers that she'd never had. They listened to her and respected her ideas and opinions, which had been something new to her. They had always seemed older than they really were, but they never made her feel inferior. When she would become sad because she didn't have the same magic that they did, they would soothe her, telling her that her blood was just as pure, that she was one of them to the last cell in her body, and that _that _was what really mattered.

So from the time she was six until she was nine, they were all hers. Well, Greg and Vincent were with them most of the time too, but she felt nearly as strongly for them as she did for the other two. It wasn't until Draco and Blaise's joint birthday party, which they had every year since they'd been born within a week of each other, that they'd met Melody and Anton. They'd been introduced to countless other children before, but those two were also going to Hogwarts, so they tried to at least remember their names. The two ended up surprising them though, and they made quick friends. But regardless, Draco and Blaise had always been the closest to her, her best friends, even after they got with Virginia.

And now, looking upon their absolute beauty ruined and marred, seeing the stiff forms and blank, unseeing eyes that once shone with lively intelligence and darkfire, a piece of her soul shattered and screamed. Draco's skin looked as if it had been boiled, bright red and sloughing off in thick, liquid layers, and parts of bone were visible through the mess of sticky flesh that had once been smooth, elegant skin. Even that once-beautiful face was melted, the cheekbones poking through, and shriveled, black…_things_ where bright silver eyes had once looked out at her from. Blaise's body faired no better, except he seemed to be decomposing before her eyes. His skin hung loosely and was spread over with rot, greenish-black where it wasn't a pasty gray, and his eyes were whole, but misty and white like a blind person's.

All three were splattered with dried blood from where they'd been bleeding when she'd first spotted them, still inside the circle, but no blood flowed now from their still hearts. The best Healer in the world would take one look at them and say it was hopeless. She knew this, had the proof right in front of her, but the denial was strong in her and it was all she had left to cling to. _I can't lose them, _she repeated to herself over and over, and all the while a small, cruel voice in the back of her mind told her that it was clearly too late. Shaking her head, she fell to her knees beside them. Timidly reaching out a hand, she brushed her fingers over Draco's singed hair. She yanked it back in horror, however, when all of that formerly-beautiful hair fell to ash underneath her fingertips.

"What has happened?" A familiar voice cut through the growing hysteria, and for the first time in her life, Pansy was glad to see Dumbledore. If anyone could fix it, he could. He was supposed to be a wizard of miracles, after all.

A tiny bit, of what she knew to be pointless, hope began to grow inside of her as she turned tear-filled eyes to him. Severus quickly explained, looking sick and, for once, completely discomposed. She saw Dumbledore make his way toward them, looking grave, and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't know that she was trembling, didn't know that tears had been pouring down her cheeks for over a minute, didn't even know that she was clutching her dead friends' hands until she felt something wet slide over her wrist. Looking down, she saw that part of Blaise's skin had burst open and diseased-looking pus had run out. Gagging, she barely stopped herself from throwing up, pulling on seventeen years worth of self-control in order not to lose her lunch and to block it out.

"I don't think there's any need, Madam Pompfrey." Dumbledore said after surveying the situation with dull, cheerless blue eyes. Pansy hadn't even noticed the nurse, and paid no heed to her then. All of her attention was locked onto the old man in front of her.

"Help them." She pleaded, not giving a damn about her pride if he would only _do _something. "Please, please fucking help them. You've wanted our House's trust for years, though you've done nothing to earn it," she couldn't help that part slipping out, as her emotions were, this once, ruling the words escaping her lips, but she continued without a pause, "but I swear you'll have it if you help them. We'll cooperate with you, just save them, please save them."

"Oh, child." Dumbledore said, kneeling beside her and putting a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "I would do anything to help them," he said, looking morose, "if I could. But alas, this is farther along than even the strongest Healer could fix. They are gone, dear. I'm so sorry."

Hearing the words from him, like that, cracked her numb disbelief in half. Choking on deep, racking sobs that seemed to come from nowhere, her vision blurred and a scream left her throat as soon as she could draw air again. Strong arms suddenly enclosed her from either side, and she felt herself being lifted and then placed gently on one of the couches, but she couldn't have cared less. Her best friends were dead. Her best friends were dead. Her best friends were _dead_. Gone. Never coming back. She distantly heard the castle's mourning bells begin to ring, the deep, low sound reverberating even so far down as the dungeons.

It crept through the stone, sounding in every hall, room and corner of the grounds. It was chilling, eerie, and shivers were racing madly down her spine in time with her tears. The bells continued tolling and tolling, the haunting melody sinking into her bones and spirit, each note jabbing the spear of white-hot agony deeper and deeper into her. The last of the night itself seemed to be responding, as they could hear the dimmed roar of rain and thunder, and every creature inside the forest seemed to have taken up the bells' tone, their howls and roars a faint backdrop to the storm. Two voices were talking to her in low, steady tones, which she recognized as Vincent and Greg's.

"Pansy, love, it'll be okay." Greg said, his voice hard and tears in his own eyes, running down his cheeks. He looked lost, as did Vincent, as if the world had just crumbled underneath their feet. She felt much the same.

"N-No, it won't!" She got out after her tears had abated fractionally. Another sob caught in her throat and their arms tightened. "T-They're dead. How can they be d-dead?" She asked, grief hollowing out her insides.

"I don't know." Vincent murmured, rocking back and forth. "I don't know."

The fireplace roared to life suddenly, and a frantic Narcissa and Silana rushed out, each clutching a pendant in their hand. Pansy recognized the talismans immediately as the charms that the two women had always carried and which let them know how their sons were. Both women were also keyed into the castle's wards, as they had permanent visiting rights, and on a normal day, it wouldn't have been anything different for them to come through the magical flames. Seeing the pendants sparking with green firelight but with none of their own, however, only intensified her grief, but she still had enough common sense to know that the two women shouldn't be allowed to see their sons in the condition that they were currently in.

Severus and Dumbledore seemed to be thinking much the same, as Dumbledore moved to intercept them and Severus motioned the horrorstruck Slytherins to form a wall around the bodies. Pansy's line of sight to the two women was cut off as a circle immediately formed around the couches, but Pansy knew it was futile. The women already knew that something horrible had happened because of their talismans, and keeping them away would more than likely be impossible without restraining them, and _that _would not be anything resembling easy. They could both become quite homicidal when it came to their sons, and even if they didn't have the old blood running through their veins, the veela alone would be enough to make a sane person think twice.

"Get out of my bloody way, you old fool!" Narcissa's indignant shout could be plainly heard over the other voices in the room, all of which promptly fell silent.

"Now, Lady Malfoy…" Dumbledore started, using that name since she'd kept it in honor of her son. But Narcissa wasn't having any of it.

"_Let me see my son_!" She screamed, and the sound of a curse being cast was heard. There was a bang as it was deflected, followed by an enraged shriek. "How _dare_ you, Severus? You think to keep us from our boys?"

"Narcissa, _please_. Listen to me just this once. Let me take you to my office an-"

"Fuck you, Severus Snape!" She yelled and several Slytherins yelped. Pansy could imagine why, as she had seen Narcissa go all veela before. Her eyes would glow a bright red, deadly claws springing from her fingers, and an aura of dark magic would encircle her, casting shifting shadows and making her look otherworldly. She did not grow wings or a beak since she wasn't a full veela, but it was definitely scary enough. Even Lucius had tried his damnedest not to provoke her.

"I know you're upset, I am too, but-"

"But _nothing_!" That was Silana, and she sounded _pissed_. "We want to see them _now_. Not later, not in five minutes, but NOW. The life force in our sons' amulets went out and you want us to _leave_? Go inhale some more Potion fumes, Severus."

"If we have to tear this bloody room apart, we will." Narcissa said scathingly. "So, MOVE." Her voice was like a cracked whip, and the Slytherins broke formation.

They had held up while Severus seemed to have some leverage, but a direct order from the senior Malfoy had them scattering and casting her fearful glances. Pansy's view was uninterrupted again, and she saw that both women had changed. Furious scarlet eyes swept the room before falling on the three bodies, and all of their anger seemed to fade away. No one could do anything but watch as all of the light, angry and otherwise, died inside their once again blue eyes. Pansy had never seen anyone's heart break before, but she was positive it was what she was seeing now, but more, in a way. It was two mothers confronted with the deaths of their only children, which is the one thing no mother ever wants to see.

"B-Baby?" Narcissa asked, her voice wobbly and her eyes beginning to glaze with severe shock. Guessing it through the amulet and seeing it firsthand were apparently very different things. "What the hell have you done to my baby?" The question was flung out to no one in particular, and her voice was ripe with soul-pain and venomous fury. It seemed as if the two women's instinctual rage was clouding their grief for the moment, vengeance being the foremost though in their minds.

"He went into a healing trance, Lady Malfoy." Dumbledore started. "With Virginia Weasley, in order to save Lord Zabini's life."

"And why was my son's life in jeopardy in the first place?" Silana asked, fury pouring off her in waves. "I thought you promised our children would be safe here, Dumbledore." She spat his name out as it were something nasty. He bowed his head, regret and shame written across his elderly face.

"That I did, Lady Zabini. That I did."

"He saved two of his Housemates that were being set on by a group of other students." Severus supplied, looking nervously at the two women. "He had to go through the Whomping Willow to get to them, however." Silana paled and Narcissa's lips tightened before he continued. "Sap got in one of the more serious wounds." Silana's head bowed for a moment, the grief trying to fight through, before her head snapped back up, the fury doubled.

"Gryffindors?" She asked, her eyes flickering over the Golden trio and Lauren.

"Yes." Severus agreed. "Along with a few Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff."

"A _Hufflepuff_?" Narcissa questioned incredulously. She then shook her head and flexed one clawed hand. "How old?"

"All sixth years."

"Good." Silana hissed. "Old enough to duel, then." Several Slytherins exchanged startled looks, while Dumbledore actually looked nervous.

"Lady Zabini-"

"No!" She snapped, cutting him off. "It is our _right_, gods damn you! A life for a life!"

"They are only children, th-"

"So were our sons! So was the youngest Weasley, their only girl!" Narcissa shouted and Weasley's head snapped up, the first reaction he'd given to anything since Pansy had been awake.

"Yes." He hissed, and Pansy saw something in his eyes that she'd never thought to see from him before. A promise of pain, a promise of death. "Yes, they will pay for this."

"They couldn't have known the consequences would be so severe-" Dumbledore started, but was cut off.

"If it were your precious Harry Potter your words would be quite different! But it's not; it's a Slytherin, and you don't even truly care, do you?" Silana spat out.

"Of course I do." Dumbledore said, keeping his voice calm and steady. He obviously knew how to deal with an enraged veela. "But I cannot allow you to slaughter my students."

"But the deaths of _our_ children are alright!?" Narcissa demanded, pacing toward him.

"Not at all, Lady Malfoy." He replied. "And those responsible shall be dealt with immediately. The other students will already be gathering in the Great Hall, and the proper announcements will be made."

"Announcements?" Silana asked in disbelief. "My son is dead and you're worried about _announcements_?"

"It must be done, you know that." Dumbledore said. She looked away, her fists clenched so tightly that blood was trickling through her fingers.

"You won't move them yet." Narcissa said, and it wasn't a question. "You will let us perform the rites."

"Yes. The Weasleys have been notified, although Molly will be here as soon as she sees her clock. They will join you, as will I when the business is done. I must leave now. Do I have your word that you will do nothing until after the rites?" He asked, and the two women nodded reluctantly. "Good. I will be back within the hour." With that, he turned and left with Madam Pompfrey, leaving the four Gryffindors and the Slytherins alone. No one spoke, as uttering any more audible words seemed almost wrong somehow.

Narcissa and Silana lowered themselves to the floor slowly, and the majority of the Slytherins turned their backs respectfully, leaving them a semblance of privacy. The two women were free to grieve since they were among their own, and the situation was too dire to pay much attention to the four Gryffindors who were also mourning. Cradling their children's bodies in their arms as best they could, they began a death chant in the old tongue, the lilting, sorrowful notes spiraling into the air. With their backs still turned, the Slytherins formed another circle, surrounding them and adding their voices to the litany. Lauren and Weasley's voices soon joined them, sending their inquiry heavenward and begging the gods to watch over their loved ones in death, as was denied them in life.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dean Thomas was more angry than he'd been in a long time, and he barely watched where he was going on his way to the Great Hall. All he could think of was throttling that stupid bastard. And sadly enough, that 'stupid bastard' was his best friend. His incredibly idiotic, dick-headed best friend. Usually, he passed Seamus' pranks over, telling himself that it was just _Seamus_. But his friend had gone too far this time. Dean wouldn't even have known what had happened if he hadn't been in the Quidditch locker rooms and overheard some younger years from the reserve team talking about it in hushed, excited whispers the night before. Apparently, one of the girl's boyfriends had been invited to go along with a few others on a 'revenge mission', as they called it.

Staying quiet, he listened in the shadows as they spoke of what had transpired on the grounds. Apparently, the 'revenge mission' group had run into two Slytherins and picked on them for a bit before Blaise Zabini had shown up. The girl said that her boyfriend had said Blaise had seemed scared, but then countered that by saying her friend had seen it from the edge of the lake and said that Zabini had been mad as shit and scared the fuck out of them. One way or the other, the group of revenge-seekers had stranded the two younger Slytherins at the base of the Whomping Willow, which everyone knew to be extremely dangerous, but her friend said Blaise had blown them across the clearing. They'd gotten back up, and had seen Blaise fighting his way through the tree. She'd said that was all she knew, and one of the girls had started sobbing, asking if Blaise was all right.

If that had been all, Dean would have still been angry that anyone at their school would do such a thing, but that wasn't all. A boy had piped up, asking who was in the group. Dean was shocked when he heard familiar names being called, but what made his breathing hitch was the first girl saying, _'Yeah, but Seamus Finnegan arranged it all. Paid the sixth years and everything 'cause he didn't want to get caught doing it. Saw Zabini coming too, and headed him off in the hall so he'd make sure to pass by and see. Said it would be a good way to get Malfoy back if his boyfriend got it from a tree. Had it planned all along, he did.' _His blood freezing in his veins, Dean had burst from his hiding place, ignoring their startled shrieks, and run hell-bent for the castle. But Seamus hadn't been there, so he'd vowed to find him the next morning. Sleeping fitfully, he rose early with the rest of his House. He hadn't been halfway to the Great Hall when the bells began chiming. __

By the time he'd made it to the entrance hall, it was filled with teachers and students making their way into the Great Hall. The bells meant one of two things: Someone living in the castle had died, or there was reason to believe that they might all be in danger. So there he was, pushing through a thick mass of bodies and searching desperately for Seamus. Finally spotting him, he ran over and pulled on his sleeve. Seamus turned around, a huge grin on his face, and drug Dean through the Great Hall's doors without a word. They made their way to their House table, where many of their Housemates were already seated, and took their usual places. The trio was nowhere to be seen, and Dean felt a growing sense of dread. You knew something was up when _those_ three disappeared.

"You won't believe what happened, mate!" Seamus exclaimed as the last of the students filed in, the Slytherins conspicuously absent.

"I know damn good and well what happened!" Dean whispered furiously. "What the bloody fuck is _wrong_ with you? What if one of the Slytherins is really hurt?" Seamus looked defensive.

"Then it would be nothing more than those stupid shits deserve." He said with finality, and Dean snorted in disgust, turning away from him and looking toward the Head table.

"Fine. Be that way, Dean. You gonna be a House traitor like that Weasley girl?" Seamus snapped.

"Don't talk about Ginny that way. She's a sweet girl. You thought so too until yesterday."

"I think sh-"

"May I have your attention, please?" Dumbledore's voice rang through the Hall, cutting Seamus off. Silence fell, heavy and expectant. "As you know, you have been called here for a reason. I am sorry to inform you that three of our students lost their lives this past night." Gasps echoed through the stillness and whispers burst out, whipping through the room like wildfire.

"Silence!" McGonagall shouted, her hair slightly disheveled and her eyes sad. Dumbledore nodded to her in thanks and continued.

"Due to a foul and dishonorable attack late yesterday afternoon, Blaise Zabini was mortally wounded. Attempting to save him, Draco Malfoy and Virginia Weasley were lost in a healing trance. All three have passed on and the families have been notified. I ask you to remain calm," he said when the students began to look panicky, "as it was not an enemy attack that took them from us, but an attack from within." At those words, complete silence fell once more.

"Who did it?" One Ravenclaw girl asked unthinkingly, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Dumbledore gave a small smile, and Dean chanced a glance at Seamus, who seemed to be in shock. His eyes were wide and horrified, his face pale and his skin waxy and trembling.

"Usually, these matters would be dealt with in private, but we think it wise that this be a lesson to you." Dumbledore said in response. "Now, let me make it clear that those responsible will not be up on murder charges as they only caused this indirectly by endangering students that Mr. Zabini, as a prefect, was entitled to save. The damage is done, however, all because of a few students' prejudice, and the punishments will be appropriate for the crime." Dumbledore sighed. "Therefore, I will give the students this chance to turn themselves in. For those who do, things will be much easier, as it is the only way to keep you safe from the grieving families." He directed the last towards the few students who knew who they were, and waited.

Half a minute later, a sixth year Gryffindor stood, tears streaming down her cheeks. Looking shell-shocked, she walked up to the Head table, stumbling. Moments later, a Hufflepuff boy jumped up, causing many students to suck in a breath in disbelief. A _Hufflepuff _had been involved? His Housemates looked like someone had just dropped anvils on their heads as he joined the Gryffindor girl. The next were two Ravenclaw boys, one who had a prefect badge on and one who Dean recognized as Jeremiah something-or-other. Another boy at the other end of their table also stood, hanging his head in shame. By the time they stood with the others, two more Gryffindors had left their seats. All of them were sixth years, and all of them turned accusatory eyes on Seamus.

"Well, come on, Finnegan." One of the Ravenclaws called. "It was your bloody idea, after all. And if I'm going to Azkaban, you're damn well coming with me." Seamus looked wretched, but he had brought it upon himself. Dean watched as he stood, the stunned gazes of their Housemates on him, and made his way slowly to the front while words ran through Dean's mind in a never-ending cycle. _Saw Zabini coming, headed him off, a good way to get Malfoy back, had it planned all along, nothing more than they deserve…_

"Oh gods." The Gryffindor girl moaned. "Are we going to Azkaban?" McGonagall spun towards her at that inquiry.

"I have never been more disgusted with any of my students!" She exclaimed and the girl cowered. "You will get what you deserve, by means of a full trial." Not much more was said and they were dismissed and told to return to their dormitories. The Gryffindors huddled together, quietly making their way to their tower. Once they passed through the portrait, they took seats, spreading out but staying close at the same time.

"How could this have happened? So many deaths in less than a day." One girl said, breaking the silence.

"How could Seamus and the others just-" Another started, but Dean stopped her.

"Don't, just don't. You were all saying that they needed to pay. Are you satisfied?" He asked, a cruel edge that they'd never heard before in his voice, and then stood, storming up the stairs to his room and leaving them gaping at his retreating form.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In a place of utter darkness and unfathomable raw power, a figure materialized out of the void, bringing light with it. The darkness pulled back obediently after brushing over the being's flesh with a lover's familiarity, and it moved forward, the light revealing glimpses of an ethereal room if anyone else had been there to see it. The being had the form of a man, but not one like any on earth. At least ten feet tall and majestic in extreme proportions, he was a vision of supreme beauty. Long, golden hair flowed down his back, silky and metallic, seeming to shine with its own light. His ivory skin was glowing, and elaborate green and black Celtic tattoos raced over his flesh in intoxicating patterns. Eyes the color freshly spilt blood sat underneath white-blonde eyebrows, and his full, sinful lips were set in a menacing scowl.

"Cocidius!" A musical voice called, and another being appeared out of nothing. "What does thee think thee are _doing_?"

"Leave it be, Sulis." The towering man replied, his voice like sweet, slick honey.

"I shall not!" She replied, flicking her rich auburn hair over one delicate shoulder. She was smaller then the man but larger than any human was, though her figure was still slender, lithe and muscular, as was the man's. "I cannot let thee go against the Lords of Heaven!"

"I _am_ a Lord of Heaven!" He retorted, spinning on one heel and facing her, his predator eyes narrowed.

"Thee knows what I mean." She said, exasperated. "Kings, then. Call them what thee will. But they have all denied our requests! Thee cannot just resume contact anyway!"

"Watch me." He snarled, and started pacing. She moved closer to him, reaching out hesitantly. When he didn't jerk away, she spoke soothingly.

"Thee heard the outcome. The Heads of all five Sky pantheons said nay. Dana and Dagda, Ra and Mut, Zeus and Hera, Odin and Frigg, Jupiter and Juno. And the other…Well, we all know that _he_ has always been against it."

"Yes. But the Lords of the Underworld have sided with me, and they will back me should I choose to break the Ban."

"The Sky Kings will banish thee!"

"Let them banish me; I will not forsake my Chosen! Not again. It has worn on us all and thee knows it. I will do it no longer. And I hold as high a place in the Dark Court as I do in the Light."

"Thee would forsake the Sky Realm's halls?" She questioned in disbelief. "Thee would choose to live permanently among demons and the dead?"

"If they force me to." He growled.

"They are not forcing thee! Thee does this on thy own!"

"Only because the rest of thee are cowards!" He snapped, his patience wearing thin even with her. "I understand as well as any why the Ban was necessary, but it has been fifteen hundred years since we have so much as spoken to them! A thousand since the last altar ran dry! The lesser kindred have all but forgotten us except for _him_, but those of our blood still worship, still remember."

"But to live eternally among darkness, Cocidius…"

"What does thee think I am? Some pure, shining hero like Apollo? More of me is dark than light, no matter who my mother is. I am the God of Forests, Hunting and War, Sulis, as well thee knows. And what are those things if not dark? I am more at home in the center of the void than anywhere else."

"Thee must not do this!" She said, nervous and angry.

This brother of hers was different from the rest, and she couldn't read him like she could the others. He set her off balance constantly, but she knew enough to recognize the gleam in his eyes. He was being Called; they had all fought the same thing numerous times over the centuries that the Ban had been in place. Before, they would have followed the Calling straight to their Chosen, a small group of people that were spiritually connected with a certain god by something that even they didn't fully understand. But the pull seemed to be too strong for Cocidius to ignore any longer, and she wondered at it. He was one of the strongest among any of the pantheons; he should have been one of the last to break under the strain. But the light in his eyes resembled battle-fury mixed with the madness of the void that he so loved to play in.

"So I take it that thee did not come here to assist me?" He asked, his voice bland and his eyes blank. She wanted to say yes, wanted to help him somehow, but she just _couldn't_. She didn't have his fearlessness, not when it came to Heaven's High Kings and Queens, and probably wouldn't even if the Dark Realm's own High Kings and Queens were on her side. Which they weren't, since most of them detested her and her father.

"I can't. I want to but I can't. Not with this." She said, lowering her voice. A flash of something resembling pain crossed his sculpted features before it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a jaded, bored look.

"I figured as much. I will need someone though." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Ares!" He called a moment later, and a stunning, young-looking man materialized before them. He had long black hair that fell to his hips, golden eyes, and blood-red lips. Tall, thin and powerful, he glided through the darkness with a wolf's loping grace, his eagle eyes trained on his friend.

"What need has thee of me, Cocidius?" Ares asked, raising a hand and brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, his tinted black fingernails blending in with his tresses. The two gods embraced before Ares pulled away, a smirk on his face. "Well? I take it that thee wishes my help with thy little problem?"

"Thee knows me so well." Cocidius said, chuckling, and Sulis felt a sharp flash of jealousy. She hadn't liked the Greeks since Ares' sister, Aphrodite, had stolen her mother's attention away. A high-pitched, sugarcoated laugh tinkled next to her ear and she groaned. Speak of the devil. The Goddess of Love and Lust had appeared in all her glory, shining like the noonday sun. White-blond hair fell in wavy masses farther than her brother's did, and her emerald eyes looked as if stars had been trapped inside them. They probably had been, knowing Aphrodite.

"I want to help." The golden goddess intoned, and Sulis stared at her. No, this couldn't be happening. Aphrodite had _not_ just bested her once again!

"Of course, my lovely vixen." Cocidius agreed. "Time is a funny thing between the Realms, but I wager we have just enough. The two of thee must shield my activities from the rest of the Sky Realm, at least until I'm through."

"It shall be done." Ares said, moving back a few steps.

He and Aphrodite both threw up shields, Ares' on the inside as the main one and Aphrodite's on the outside as the secondary. Sulis moved not a muscle as her brother's eyes glazed, seeing something very different than what was right in front of him. He was apparently wasting no time as he followed the Call that none of their kind had answered in over a millennium. His body began fragmenting, his essence leaking through as he called on his power and made the reach with remembered ease. Minutes passed before his eyes snapped open and three shadowy figures formed in front of him. All had long, flowing hair in different shades and reeked of power even in death. She had not encountered an earth-dweller as powerful as they were since the First Born. They looked around, their minds clouded and confused as her brother's body became solid again.

"Welcome, Chosen." Cocidius said, his voice full of thunder. His eyes were wild and calm at the same time, and Sulis knew that it was the close proximity of his Chosen affecting him.

"Where are we?" The female figure asked, her voice soft and full of wonder. "Is this the Underworld?"

"Nay." Cocidius answered, and their eyes drifted up to him. The two males stiffened, drawing closer to the female. "Ah, so thee knows me."

"Lord Cocidius." The male on the left acknowledged. Sulis was surprised; she knew these earth-dwellers before her had the old blood running strongly through them, but that they still remembered enough to recognize her brother…That was surprising, to say the least.

"We never thought to see you." The other male said, unable to keep a faint trace of bitterness and pain from his voice.

"Thy Calls were too strong, especially when thy souls disconnected from thy shells. Something in my core shifted when I heard thee. Thee three have great fates should thee accept them." The god replied and Sulis reeled. No wonder he hadn't been able to resist. _That_ was something she was _sure_ hadn't happened since the First Born had Passed. The female moved forward as he spoke, drawn by his voice. She stopped when he did and looked confused again.

"That was…"

"Thee feels drawn to me." Cocidius supplied when she couldn't find the words. The three ghostly forms nodded, and a rare smile graced Cocidius's face. "I am thy patron god and thy are my Chosen. It is the way of things."

"I have heard of such before, in the old legends." The first male said, obviously feeling the same longing as the female. "But it has not occurred since the Rift."

"'Twas banned." Aphrodite chimed in from where she still stood, keeping up her shield. "But Cocidius here couldn't help himself."

"I awoke to their soul-cries ringing in my mind." Cocidius replied. "What else was I to do?"

"Why are we here?" The second male asked. "If we must Pass, we wish to do so in peace."

"Find thee no peace in my presence?" Cocidius asked. The male hesitated.

"Yes, I do." He finally conceded. "Your divinity calls to me, and the worship sings within me as it has never done at an altar."

"Does thee wish to Pass?" Cocidius asked.

"No." All three chimed in unison.

"Had I heard Hades' call to pass through the Black Gates upon my death," the first male said, "I would say yes. But I heard no such summons, not from any god but you."

"My uncle favors thee, then." Ares said, a devilish grin on his face. Cocidius waved him silent.

"Will thee serve?" Cocidius asked, and the three figures grew still. The looks on their faces confirmed that they understood what he meant. If they agreed, the loose bond between them would be made solid and they would truly become his Chosen, serving him eternally. If they refused, they would Pass. The three drew close together, silent thoughts seeming to pass between them through their gazes. Reaching a decision simultaneously, they once again spoke in unison.

"We will serve."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy walked along the narrow path that ran along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, using her nose to find the best flowers and herbs and ignoring the rain, a simple shield charm keeping the hail from striking her. She could have ordered some of what she was looking for or conjured it, but she needed out of their sorrow-laden common room. Her mind was whirling in every direction, and she had no idea what to do. Narcissa and Silana had still not let them move their sons' bodies, stopping their songs of Passing only long enough to snarl Dumbledore and Severus away. The Weasleys had arrived before Dumbledore was even finished taking the culprits to the Ministry.

They were shocked and distraught, even the oldest of them flooing in immediately. Malfoys and Zabinis had been arriving in clusters, along with Arthur and Molly's brothers and sisters, while all of the other families that wished to pay their respects had been denied entrance to the castle. It had only been two hours since their deaths had been confirmed, but news spread quickly throughout their world. It still seemed distant, untouchable, and yet startling real and clear at the same time. Her best friends were dead. There was nothing beyond that and everything before it. She felt as if she were being slowly choked, and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. She didn't even _want_ to stop it.

"Pansy?" Her sister questioned from behind her. Lycelle had sidled up to her during one of the litanies and they had escaped, Greg and Vincent trailing behind them like lost puppies. Her sister was only in her third year, but she was remarkably perceptive.

"What?" Pansy asked, her voice dull and hoarse.

"You loved them, didn't you?" Lycelle questioned, and Pansy looked at her sharply.

"Yes."

"And they loved you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you'll see them again one day?"

"It's pretty to think so." Pansy replied dryly, another sob pushing at her throat.

Wrestling for control, she clenched her fists and walked faster. She only needed one more type of flower, tiger lilies, and she smelt some a little ways ahead, which was as good an excuse as any for her increased pace. She had never been that close to her sister, since her parents had given up completely on trying to 'raise' a second child and sent her to their grandmother's house in Russia for the majority of her time before Hogwarts. But she did love her, seeing her grow up in spurts during bi-annual visits, and didn't want to hurt her. The girl was tough enough, but she was emotionally wounded easily, which was a very bad trait for a Slytherin.

"We should be heading back soon, shouldn't we?" Lycelle asked.

"Yes. The last flowers are right here." Pansy said as they came to an overshadowed bend in the path.

Leaning down, she reached for the blossoms. Her fingers closed around one and something stuck in her thumb. A drop of blood splattered onto the muddy ground as she pulled her hand back. Putting the flower away, she quickly gathered a few more before examining the cut. It looked like a thorn had stuck her from one of the surrounding brambles. A chill suddenly shot down her spine, and her eyes were drawn to her blood on the watery soil. Shivering, she ushered Lycelle back towards the castle as a bolt of lightning hit a tree bare yards from them. Vincent and Greg caught up with them and they ran for the castle as the storm became vicious.

Once in, they released their shield charms and made their way towards the dungeons in silence. The other students gave them a wide birth, some looking at them pityingly, some mildly regretful, and some still vaguely hostile. They kept their heads up and their movements smooth all the way to their common room, before their masks fell away once more as they entered the grief-choked atmosphere. Walking slowly, she approached Narcissa, Silana and Molly (who had taken her son's place and had her daughter in her arms). She held out her basket wordlessly, and the women briefly nodded their thanks as she began spreading the flowers and herbs in a circle around them.

The aromas varied; some sweet, some spicy, but they blended well and brought an added sense of the earth to the underground room. The plants also smelled of rain and fresh soil, which intensified the feeling. When she finished, she sat on the rug close by, her gaze drawn again and again to what she didn't want to see. When she closed her eyes, she could still picture the three of them as they had been, but she was brought cruelly back to reality when they opened again. Taking deep breaths, she fought the rising nausea back and barely noticed her sister, Vincent and Greg take seats beside her. The Golden trio had taken places within the cluster of Weasleys, and it would have been shocking to see them within their House at any other time.

"Why did this have to happen?" She mumbled to herself. Vincent turned to her, apparently having heard what she said.

"I don't know. And I don't know what to _do_, Pansy." He whispered back, sliding closer. He slid and arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his familiar embrace gratefully.

"Me neither." She replied, her voice low.

"It seems darker."

"Yes, yes it does." Pansy agreed, closing her eyes, another stray tear leaking down her cheek.

"No, I mean it _really_ seems darker. Look." He said, and her eyes popped open again.

Glancing around, she realized that he was right. The fire was still burning, but it didn't seem to be giving off as much light as it should, nor did the candles and torches. The air felt heavy and thick, sliding like honey down her throat. There was a different smell drifting through the room, something she recognized but couldn't place. It was citrusy and sharp, yet smooth and soothing at the same time, and it felt refreshing when she sucked in a breath. Distracted, she vaguely placed the smell for what is was, and naming the scents mixed up in it had realization whacking her over the head. _Lemons, mint and chocolate_. She snapped her head up, standing and startling Vincent before sucking in a stunned breath. Virginia's frostbitten fingers were moving.

"Pansy? Pansy, what is it?" Vincent asked, his voice rising when she ignored him and walked forward a few steps, convinced she was hallucinating. Everyone stopped to stare at her, taking in her wide, shocked eyes and gaping mouth before following her line of sight.

"Oh gods!" Molly exclaimed as her daughter's stiff body suddenly convulsed.

Narcissa and Silana were soon echoing her shout with their own, and Pansy drug her eyes to Draco and Blaise. Their bodies were also beginning to twitch and spasm, somehow staying in one piece when it looked as if the increasingly violent movements would shake them apart. The air grew weightier and darker, the candles and torches going out all together, eaten by the encroaching darkness. A few people shouted and whimpered, but Pansy couldn't take her gaze from the three bodies of her friends. The darkness began spiraling around the room, bringing the scent and crushing feel of the void with it. Then there was a mighty 'BOOM' and the three figures screamed.

It was a horrible, agony-filled sound that seemed to tweak in the surrounding people's very bones. A halo of shadowy energy sprung up around them and threw those closest to them back several feet, including their mothers and Pansy. Getting back to her feet shakily but swiftly, she watched, spellbound, as their eyes became whole and clear again, and charcoal, silver and blue lit up with an inner fire once more. Their screaming died into nothing as the raw magic around them began flowing and swimming over their forms. Then suddenly, Draco was lifted a good seven feet into the air and the energy began moving faster. Pure, white streaks shot through the black and the suffocating power in the air took on an icy feel.

Her eyes unblinking, Pansy watched in joy and disbelief as his blistered, melted skin reformed, returning to its previous pristine state. It stayed bright red for a moment longer, before that, too, faded back into snowy brilliance even lighter than before. Except for his lips and eyelids. The once blood-red lips became a lightly tinted blue, as did his eyelids, and it somehow made him more angelic-looking than ever. The tattoo on his arm came back richly shaded, visible since their outer robes had been removed earlier, and his fingernails took on a lustrous finish, looking to be made of ice and bearing the same blue tint as his lips. His hair grew back rapidly, and all traces of white-blond were gone from the purely silver tresses. Every strand was liquid Christmas tinsel and his eyes took on the same metallic sheen. He slowly returned to the ground and Blaise took his place.

The energy surrounding him was laced with a deep, purplish-blue color instead of white, and the air felt more charged than freezing. His raven-colored hair flowed down like a waterfall, and the dark blue lowlights in it became more vibrant. The spreading rot vanished from his skin, returning the flesh again to what it once was; porcelain paler than the clouds except for the thick, dark markings of his own tattoo. And he, too, had parts that became tinted; his eyes were ringed in smoky black instead of frosty blue and the same dark shade colored his opaque fingernails. His lips, though, took on a faint purple shade, looking slightly bruised, as if he'd just been thoroughly kissed. His eyes also gained hints of purple, turning them a shade she had never seen before.

He sunk slowly to the floor beside Draco, and everyone's eyes followed Virginia's form as she rose to where they had been. Pansy's gaze was eager now, as she knew what to expect, and she felt like screaming with glee when the black faded from her friend's skin, the cold blisters disappearing to be replaced with flawless ivory. No freckles dusted Virginia's flesh anymore and her cheekbones became slightly more pronounced, making her look regal. Her hair became soft again, the color subtlety changing to look like shifting flames; dark orange blended into brass that melted into dark red. But the last six inches and the hair around her face took on the color of freshly spilt blood, her lips became a luscious crimson, and her nails glittered like rubies in the dim firelight and flickering shadows.

Her eyes shone with hints of fiery copper, and the skin around the gorgeous orbs was shaded a shadowy gray that brought out the metallic hints within them beautifully. She did not sink to the ground as the other two had; instead, they rose once more to her level. The living darkness that had been creeping around the room started to whip and spin, and a presence unlike any they had ever felt before entered the room. They couldn't see what caused it, but they could definitely _feel_ it. It made Pansy desperately want to sink to her knees and raise her voice in worship. That last word buzzed in her mind, and she nearly fainted when she realized what was happening. Someone yelled, and her eyes moved unthinkingly to where they were staring. She gasped and fell backwards into Vincent when she saw what had happened.

The ancient altar in the corner, which was much older than Hogwarts itself, was alive again. The silver runes and symbols carved into the black marble were moving in a never-ending pattern, the fountain that had been dry for an age was sprouting with crystalline water, and it reeked of divine energy. One design had grown larger than the rest and was fixed in the center, glowing with dark power and a hint of light. It was a complicated symbol of simple, exquisite beauty, and they knew the god it represented. Although no altar had so much as dripped in over a millennium, anyone who still worshiped knew that the enlarged symbol was indication of what god's attention was on it. The choking feeling turned comforting, divinity rolling over them in waves, and every soul in the room, besides the three still in a cocoon of power, _did_ drop to their knees then.

They reveled in the first touch of a god that their kind had experienced in much, much too long, and gave themselves freely to it as they had always been meant to do. A brilliant flash of light turned their eyes back to the Draco, Blaise and Virginia. Three identical vortexes of light were swirling madly above them, one placed over each of their hearts, and no one could do anything but watch as the small maelstroms sunk into their chests. They screamed again, but it was not agony cloaking their voices that time. They were screaming in pleasure and ecstasy, their cheeks flushing and their bodies vibrating. They began to glow, light creeping out from inside their skin, each glimmer of luminosity a different hue.

Their right arms suddenly shot out, held up as if in offering, and moments later, Pansy realized that's exactly what it was. Because the light around their arms grew even brighter than the rest, their screams turning into breathless moans as the light began tracing over their forearms. A beam of it had shot up through their skin and looked as if it were carving something into their flesh. As a pattern began to form, and Pansy recognized the beginnings of the god's Mark. Understanding what it meant, she felt as if she were going to sink through the floor. His Chosen…They were Cocidius's Chosen. Cocidius, who was said to have the power to overthrow Dagda if He chose. Cocidius, who had seduced Isis and Osirus into the joining of the Dark pantheons. Cocidius, the last god to walk among the people and the first to return.

His symbol was branded into their skin in the same place but on the opposite arm of where they would have taken the Dark Mark had they been inclined to. It was where Voldemort had gotten the idea after all, reading every book on the gods he could find. The gods had always Marked their Chosen that way, and Voldemort had simply twisted it a bit into his own weak imitation. The spear of light finished its work, and the result was breathtaking. It was not one color but many, as if every color created or imagined had been placed into it. The colors twisted and corkscrewed, giving off a faint echo of the previous light. The three recipients' eyes flew open, as they had closed them when the Marking started, and they didn't look entirely human.

All three had split pupils, which she had seen from Draco and Blaise before, but never from Virginia. Her teeth stayed normal, however, as theirs elongated into small, deadly fangs. The three of them went from horizontal to vertical positions in the air, and dropped gracefully to their feet. They were cleaned of all the previous dried blood, and they, like their Marks, were still glowing faintly. They descended into crouching positions, their hair falling around their faces like curtains as the divine presence receded, the darkness drawing back. Soon enough, they felt alone in the room once more, except for the wisps of energy around the once again active altar. Narcissa moved towards the three of them slowly, Silana and Molly on her heels.

"Draco? Love? Are you alright?" She asked, nearing where they half-sitting, half-kneeling.

She took another step, and Blaise's head snapped up, a growl trickling from his throat. There was no recognition in those blue-but-not-blue eyes as he looked at the woman who had been a second mother to him. Silana stepped around her, but still his eyes stayed threatening and blank. His mother's lip began shaking, tears springing to her eyes, but she stayed still, not backing away as that gaze examined her from head to foot. Draco and Virginia slowly lifted their own heads, their hair falling back. Nothing but a primal intelligence shone in their eyes, either, and Pansy started to frantically wonder if it was even _them_ in their bodies. Blaise's head turned, his attention falling on the other two beside him, and something did wash over his face then. Draco and Virginia saw him at the same time, and it was as if they couldn't look away.

"They know each other, at least." Lycelle whispered to Pansy from behind her. And she was right. They moved towards each other in perfect sync, rubbing their cheeks together when they were in touching distance. They each reached out with their left hands, their movements slow and careful, seeming instinctual rather than conscious, and Draco laid his hand upon Virginia's Mark as she laid hers upon Blaise's and Blaise laid his on Draco's. Their eyes widened and their bodies began shaking once more, and each had a single, thin line of blood trickle from their noses. Then they grew still, their breathing labored, and slowly lifted their heads.

"Mum?" They asked in unison, and choked sobs were their only answer before they were drawn into relieved, rapturous embraces.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Please, please, _please_ review!

Cocidius – Celtic God of Forests, Hunting and War

Sulis – Celtic Goddess of Healing

Ares – Greek God of War

Aphrodite – Greek Goddess of Love and Lust


	8. Grains of Peace and Rising Tides

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**Author's Note**: A few people have said that the stuff about the gods was confusing, so I'll try to clear it up a bit. (clears throat) Most 'old' cultures worshiped a certain group of gods, a 'pantheon'. The five primary pantheons are the Celtic, the Egyptian, the Greek, the Norse and the Roman. Some people group the Greek and Roman pantheons together since they have many similar qualities, and I myself have in other stories. But in this one, they are separate, as they should be. Now, each of those pantheons had 'dark' gods and 'light' gods, a good example being Zeus and Hades. Each were Kings, but Zeus ruled in the sky, whereas Hades ruled in the Underworld. So Cocidius, who's parents were never listed in anything I've read, I made the child of the Dana, the Celtic 'Queen' Goddess, and Afallach, the 'King' of the Celtic Underworld. But I won't be going deep into _their _histories, I don't think, so you don't have to worry about knowing that much about them. They're mostly just background characters anyway. If I missed anything or anyone still has any questions, please let me know!

French Translations: ((example))

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Virginia stretched lazily, the tightening of her muscles feeling exquisite. She was looking forward to the coming evening, as she, Draco and Blaise would finally get to go on their date to Hogsmeade. It was Saturday, but a week after their original plans had been set for, a week after they'd 'come back from the dead', as everyone so loved to remind them. Draco had been so angry when Snape had told them that their deaths had already been publicly announced that she and Blaise had had to take him for a hunt in the forest before he was able to even form a coherent sentence. She hadn't understood why at first, but when they'd gone back to classes on Monday, she'd understood perfectly.

The mixed looks and whispers of awe and hate that followed them everywhere were the most annoying and infuriating things she'd ever had to endure. They'd been splashed across every front page of every published magazine and newspaper in their world, and Dumbledore had been evicting the press off of the grounds almost four times a day, along with gawking witches and wizards who wanted one of two things: To meet them or to assassinate them. But what really didn't help them gain any peace was the fact that every altar within a two hundred mile radius had sprung back to life after over a millennium. Purebloods and halfbloods alike were flocking to them from all over the world, claiming it was a miracle.

There were three views on what had caused said miracle, however. The first was what had been printed; that she, Blaise and Draco were Cocidius's Chosen (Draco had been quite angry that _that_ had become public knowledge, as well). The second was the opinion of those who followed Voldemort; that _he_ had brought the altars back to life, that _he_ had the favor of a god, and that Dumbledore was only using the three of them for cover. The third opinion was the one that most muggleborns were taking; that it was a fluke, a freak occurrence, and that maybe, just _maybe_, the gods _did_ have something to do with it, but if they had, it was on their own, not because of anyone in particular. Personally, she didn't give a damn what they thought, if they'd only leave them _alone_.

"Virginia?" Pansy's voice questioned, using the portrait to call into the room. Sitting up and pulling the dark green sheet around her, she told the portrait to let her in. Seconds later, Pansy appeared out of the short entranceway, her dark hair floating around her smirking face. The mahogany brown tresses had been long up until last year, when she'd cut them off to her chin. It suited her sharp, angular face better in Virginia's opinion.

"'Lo, Pansy." Virginia mumbled tiredly, rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes. And, as she had every morning since Hermione had told her more about muggles, she thanked the gods that she was a witch and hadn't had 'morning breath' since she was six, courtesy of a permanent, life-long charm. Scrunching her nose in distaste at the thought, she didn't even realize she had spaced off until Pansy laughed, waving a hand in front of her face.

"You awake?" She teased. "Because you didn't look it there for a minute."

"Hmph." Virginia huffed. "Well, _some_ people around here still need a little sleep once in a while." She said, glaring towards the bathroom where her boyfriends were currently hidden behind the leafy green foliage. She heard the faintest echo of a masculine laugh through the soothing noise of the waterfall, and glared harder, knowing that they'd heard her. Bastards. Pansy gave her a knowing, sympathetic glance.

"I take it they don't even need the few hours of sleep they did before, then?"

"Oh nooooooooooooooo." Virginia grumped, purposely lowering her voice just to agitate them. "The big, bad vampires got all the perks out of this deal." The Mark on her arm glittered and tingled, and she shot it an adoring, exasperated look. "Joking." She murmured, causing Pansy to laugh again, although there was that same wonder-filled glimmer in her eyes that was in everyone else's when they looked directly at one of their Marks, even those who hated the three of them and said it was all a lie.

"So, does He…monitor you all the time, or something?" Pansy asked, looking up and meeting Virginia's eyes.

"No." Virginia replied, smirking. "It's almost like the Mark has a mind of its own."

"Do you feel any…_different_ because of it?" She asked, and Virginia saw a small hint of remembered horror flash in her friend's eyes.

"Umm," she started, not really knowing what to say. She couldn't understand why Pansy looked so anxious for her answer, or why she'd seemed almost scared at the possibility that Virginia might not be exactly the same as she had been before. And in truth, she _did_ feel different. But it wasn't a bad different. It was comforting, _completing_, to have small shots of divinity ceaselessly racing through her veins, and it was even better when she was with Draco and Blaise.

The Marks also connected them to each other, sort of like a mind-meld spell that hadn't been deactivated and sat dormant and humming in the back of your consciousness, a constant reassurance. And there were other things…But she was almost sure that wasn't what Pansy wanted to hear, and she couldn't fathom why. Pansy was one of the most accepting people she'd ever met when it came to the strange and unnatural. And in their world, 'strange' and 'unnatural' could be a number of things much more disturbing then what had been altered inside of them. So what if the world looked different to her eyes now? So what if those with any nonmagical blood running through their veins sometimes smelled like prey? There was nothing she could do about it, nothing she _would _do about it, except block it out like she'd been doing. And it was another good reason to surround herself with Slytherins.

"If you're trying to seduce our girlfriend, Parkinson, you'll have to do better than that." Blaise said, appearing from behind a huge Imperial Blackleaf and pushing its large, green and purplish-black leaves back.

He had nothing but a thick, black towel wrapped around his waist, hanging low on his hips, and had produced a bottle of wine from…somewhere. It was open already, and moisture coated the dark green glass. Honestly, they had wine stashes _everywhere_. His long black hair was dripping wet and hanging down his back, the blue and purple lowlights lost among the water-laden tresses. Draco came out seconds after him, a matching towel slung around his waist and his hair just as wet. But he had two bottles of wine to Blaise's one, and his hair was still metallic, even while weighed down by the water. Watching the play of muscles as they moved distracted her to the point that Pansy laughed again, snapping her out of her very unladylike mental imaginings.

"I don't believe you have anything to worry about." Pansy replied as they glided up to them, and looked pointedly at Virginia. Instead of blushing, she sneered.

"Jealous, dear?" She asked, and Pansy's smirk reappeared. Before she could retort, however, Draco sighed.

"I knew it." He said morosely. "She's after _our_ bodies. Damn. Whatever shall we do?" He asked, directing the question at Blaise, who put on a thoughtful expression.

"Well, she obviously can't resist our magnificence." Blaise replied haughtily, sticking his nose in the air. "So I say we sit back and watch them fuck."

"_Blaise!!_" Virginia and Pansy exclaimed at once, while Draco started snickering.

"What?" He asked innocently, taking a long swig of the wine in his hand. Draco handed Virginia one of the bottles he was holding, still laughing, and gave Pansy the other. He walked over to the star-strewn wall, said 'Caliga', and a panel appeared from nowhere. He pulled out another bottle, proving Virginia's point beautifully. There were four hidden caches in the bedroom alone.

"You're both horrid creatures." Pansy huffed, the hint of a grin on her face ruining her threatening posture. Blaise smirked and bowed mockingly before moving towards the wardrobe.

"Sure, sure. Now, love," he said, flashing Virginia a disarming smile, "will you be requiring clothes, or do we get to take you out in nothing but our bed sheet?"

"Not that he's complaining." Draco added, half of his wine already mysteriously gone. Virginia sighed, standing and keeping the sheet tucked tightly around her.

"Clothes, please." She replied, ignoring their looks of disappointment and sitting the bottle on the bed for later. "I'll be back in a minute."

They nodded, and she made her way for the bathroom slowly, letting the rich, exotic scents wash over her. She absolutely loved their bathroom, and knew that it had quite horribly spoiled her. But how could she resist? It was perfect. If she'd ever given any thought to what her dream bathroom would be like, it would definitely have been something remarkably similar. She parted the low, over-hanging leaves out of her way and let them fall closed behind her. The sound of the waterfall was more pronounced, and she let the sheet flutter to her feet before she slid into the warm water. Draco and Blaise had asked her to join them earlier, but she'd been too lazy.

She regretted it now, as their presence would have made the bath all the more enjoyable, but she'd been exhausted. They'd stayed up late the night before, chatting with the Slytherins, who seemed to be almost frantic with the worry that they would just disappear at any moment. And her brother, Harry, Hermione and Lauren had been stopping by almost every night, which the Slytherins were _very_ slow to accept, as if they feared the same thing. The air was always thick with uncomfortable silences when they were around, but they persisted in their visits, mostly because Virginia rarely went to Gryffindor Tower anymore. The memory of her Housemates' jeering, hateful faces was enough to make her wary, even if half of them hadn't smelt like food. Being around Harry and Hermione was taxing enough.

Not to mention the fact that her boyfriends would rather chew off their own limbs than let her go alone. They were paranoid enough when she was with other Slytherins. Throw her in a group of Gryffindors, and their heads were likely to explode. Giggling at the thought, she waded over to the waterfall, the warm liquid of the pool nearly reaching her shoulders. There was a step right before you got to the waterfall, so that it was easier to wash your hair, and if you stuck your hand through the sheet of water, there was a shelf built into the stone, packed with herbal soaps and shampoos that Draco and Blaise brewed themselves.

She agreed with them that no matter how much gold they had, it was pretty pointless to pay for such expensive products when you could make them yourself. She'd laughed and told them that if they ever went bankrupt, they could always open a salon. They hadn't spoken to her for an hour, just stared, horrified, at the wall. Apparently, the thought of losing everything they owned was a new, alien and terrifying notion. She'd found it quite hilarious. Thinking of them, which she seemed to do constantly, made her wish, again, that she'd gotten up to bathe with them earlier. But it had been their fault she'd been so tired in the first place. They hadn't gotten to their room _that _late, after all.

Remembered pleasure coursed through her, and she shivered, the warm water suddenly feeling even warmer against her skin. She let her eyelids flutter shut, imagining their hands running over her skin. Her breathing picked up and she sighed, knowing that it was pointless to try to bring herself pleasure. It had been ever since the first touch of their skin on hers. She couldn't really bring herself to care, though, and reached mechanically for the shampoo. Bringing the thick substance to a lather, she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. It was hard to wash by herself since it was so long, and she would have called the two of them to help if Pansy hadn't been there.

She leaned forward a bit so the rushing water wouldn't wash out the shampoo before she even got it all the way through her hair, and jumped when two sets of hands descended on her at once. She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even heard them. Not that she would have even with her recently enhanced senses if they hadn't wanted to be heard in the first place. She relaxed immediately as their skilled hands began working the shampoo through her hair and running the bar of soap over her skin, moving agonizingly slow. The lull of the water and the slippery, full-body massage soon had her floating in a tranquil haze.

"Where's Pansy?" She asked unconsciously, her mouth working on its own. A soft, warm chuckle tickled over her skin, making her shiver again.

"Au loin." Blaise replied, tilting her head to wash the shampoo from her hair. "Faire cela avoir de l'importance?" He asked as the last of the suds came out, and she shook her head. ((Away. Does it matter?))

She would have verbally responded, but one mouth covered hers and the other licked and nibbled a chilly, delicious trail down her neck. Tingling sparks flared up inside of her, and she responded eagerly, letting her lips be devoured and devouring in turn. The storm of sensations the two of them created in her was very nearly overwhelming, but she wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. The soft, icy lips continued kissing down her shoulder and over her collarbone, before flicking teasingly across her nipple. She gasped into Blaise's mouth, arching her back and purring in delight. Their kiss turned hungry, demanding, and both yielded to it unthinkingly.

Sharp teeth bit her nipple just hard enough to draw a trickle of blood, and she moaned, feeling her knees go weak. Strong, sure hands gripped her hips and pushed her forcibly into the wall, knowing with an expert's finesse just how much she would like it. Her back met the warm, stone wall just hard enough to sting, and the rough pain doubled her pleasure, turning the heat running through her veins into molten lava. A body was pressed against either side of her, and Blaise's mouth had never left hers. He nipped her lips sharply and her blood mingled between them. Blaise growled, renewing the kiss furiously and cupping her breasts with his hands as Draco's mouth left her wanting skin.

She moaned again, half in pleasure, half in disappointment, before a chilled tongue swirled over her aching heat and made her scream. It was muffled around the lips on her mouth, and the small bit of comprehension she'd still possessed disappeared, along with any and all self-control. It all came back to the basics; to pure, aching instincts, their passion and groans of delight as old as time. Fingernails like small knives trailed over the smooth inner flesh of her thigh as her world began to swim around her, the colors melting together. She was barely aware of begging them to take her, but she was entirely aware when they did. _Complete_. She knew that she thought the word altogether too much, but it truly was the only one that came close to describing the way they made her feel, the way _this _made her feel.

Complete was feeling their flesh surrounding hers, feeling their hearts beating in sync. Complete was their touch, their smell, their rare smiles. Complete was their silky hair mingling with hers in a concealing curtain that fell around them, a patched mass of silver, black and blood. Complete was the low, sensual sounds of appreciation and devotion that escaped their throats in ragged gasps. Complete was teeth and nails and sweet, sweet pain soothed and spiced with caring adoration. Complete was twin sets of sharp, deadly fangs sinking into her skin, drawing her blood and replacing it with unadulterated ecstasy. Complete was having them inside of her, filling her body and soul, pounding and thrusting, ravishing and loving.

"Oh gods!" She screamed as the ecstasy peaked and crashed over her in a thundering, frosty wave, her throaty voice swallowed up by the rushing water and their own cries of release.

Her nails raked down Draco's chiseled back as Blaise's teeth moved from her neck to her shoulder, and her limbs began trembling violently. Her muscles gave out completely, and they sunk into the water listlessly, their limbs intertwined, and content, satisfied looks gracing their features. Draco and Blaise's fingers ran unerringly over every inch of her, whispered murmurs in French dancing over her spirit as healing hands lessened the bruises, leaving them faded and slightly aching, as they knew she liked them. Soft reminders, she'd called them once, and they'd told her there was no need, seeing as how they'd make new ones for her anytime she wished.

They didn't bother to heal their own at all, as they relished the pain even more than she did, which she strongly suspected had something to do with their vampiric blood. Or maybe not. But regardless, the marks meant something to each of them and they cherished every one. Before, she'd never known what a little blood and pain could add to sex, and she seriously doubted that it would be appealing were they anyone else. They seemed to bring out the parts of her that she had fought so long and hard to deny and hide while in Gryffindor Tower, and she thanked them more for it everyday. She had never felt so free in her life, and if there was one thing she was determined about, it was that no one would ever take it away from her again.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione sighed. Boys couldn't take longer to do anything if they tried. How very, very sad. Shaking her head, she called up the stairs again. "Harry! Ron! Are you _almost_ ready? You heard what she said!"

"We know, we know!" Ron's voice echoed back down to her from the boys' dorms, sounding annoyed. "If we don't get there before seven, she'll leave anyway! It's those damn Slytherins' influence, I tell you!" Rolling her eyes, Hermione went and sat back down by Lauren.

"In boy speak, they'll be another ten minutes." She said, sighing again. Lauren grinned.

"Yeah, well at least you get to go. My mum said if I get another detention this term, that's she's going to give our tickets to the Quidditch World Cup away. Can you _believe_ that?"

"Erm…" Hermione said, not sure how to respond. She really didn't like Quidditch. It was a stupid, ruthless and barbaric game if you asked her, but no one did. They knew how she felt about their sport of choice already.

"Bloody ridiculous, if you ask me." Lauren continued. "It's not my fault the teachers all hate me." Hermione laughed stiffly, the thought of all her teachers hating her being almost too horrible to imagine. The seconds crawled by, and exactly nine and a half minutes later, the boys finally emerged from the dark staircase.

"It's about time." Hermione said grouchily, having been ready herself for nearly an hour.

It was only four, but she didn't want to be late and arrive at a common room full of Slytherins who hated them and who, quite conveniently, would be there without Ginny, Draco and Blaise. Ginny was the one who really kept them off their throats, since neither Blaise nor Draco really gave a damn if the Boy Who Lived and all his friends suddenly dropped dead, but they would stop it if it were upsetting Ginny. Which is something, she had noticed, that it eerily didn't seem to do. In fact, sometimes she was almost sure that Ginny could barely stand her Housemates anymore, even _them_, but she pushed that thought away.

She knew that as soon as Blaise and Draco left tonight, leadership would fall to Pansy and Anton, neither of whom particularly liked the trio either. She was pretty sure that Pansy wouldn't let the Slytherins hurt them, even if it _was_ only to please Ginny, but she didn't want to put any real faith in that yet. It didn't seem like it was going to be a problem, as it looked as if they were going to have plenty of time, and Hermione wanted to ask Pansy if she'd decided on whether or not to teach them a few things. It galled asking the Slytherins for help, but truth be told, they needed it. Harry's visions were getting worse, and they were getting desperate.

The end of their seventh year was rapidly approaching, and they were sure down to their very bones that _that_ was when Voldemort would attack. And she couldn't bear the thought of Harry having to face that madman with only the magical knowledge he had now. Not even all of Hermione's research had been helping them, as they'd gone through every spell book in the library and hadn't found anything new. McGonagall wouldn't help them, the Weasleys wouldn't help them, Dumbledore wouldn't help them, and Sirius _couldn't_ help them. That really only left one choice, no matter how distasteful that choice happened to be.

"Well, come on, 'Mione." Ron said, poking her shoulder. "You wanted us to hurry, and here we are."

"Good." She mumbled, her thoughts having turned dark. Standing, she headed for the portrait, unable to do anything but picture Pansy's sneering rejection over and over again. They _needed_ this, damn it, but what the hell would a bunch of pampered Slytherins know about that? Slightly shocked by the intensity and vehemence of her thoughts, she shook her head free of them and crawled out after Ron and Harry, waving a last goodbye to Lauren.

"So what's up, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've been weird all week."

"And you haven't?" She snapped back, tired of their ceaseless questions about her inner turmoil. Harry looked taken aback, but trudged onwards with his famous, typical bravery.

"Come on, 'Mione. You can tell us." He said, sounding sincere. Feeling slightly guilty for her outburst, she sighed and nodded.

"Look, I'm just worried, okay?"

"About what?" Harry asked, being polite about it even though he probably already knew what she meant.

"What do you think?" Ron cut in. "It's got to be my sister or a Slytherin. That's all Hermione cares about these days."

"Excuse me?" She asked, stopping dead on the Grand Staircase and glaring at him. Ron shrunk back, but still responded.

"You heard me." He said. "They're all you talk about."

"Oh, well, _do_ forgive me for caring whether we live or die!" She retorted hotly.

"We don't need _them_!"

"Yes, we do! And at least I'm _trying_ to find a way to help us! All you do is sit around, eat and play Quidditch!" She yelled, and he looked as if she'd slapped him. Wishing she had, she pushed past the two of them, storming down the stairs.

The landing between the fifth and fourth floor began moving just as she reached it, and she was so angry she did something she'd seen other students do before, but had never tried herself. She picked her pace up a bit and leaped the gap, landing hard on the other side and having to grab onto the rail to get her balance back. Her ankle had nearly twisted underneath her, but otherwise it had been all right. Looking back, she saw Harry and Ron halfway down the set of stairs she'd just been on, their wands out as if they'd meant to catch her when she fell and their mouths hanging wide open. The first genuinely cheerful grin she'd experienced in days lit up on her face, and she blew them a mocking kiss.

She got off at the next landing, continuing her way down to the dungeons, knowing that they'd catch up with her before she got there. Her pulse was still racing, and she couldn't stop smiling. That had to have been the best bout of 'stalking off' that she'd ever done. Feeling immensely pleased with herself, she hummed happily to herself, admiring the paintings as she hadn't done for years. She vowed that she would more often before the year was up, feeling slightly sad that her time there was almost over. She would miss Hogwarts, but she had more pressing things to worry about than a young girl's normal fears about life after school. Letting her thoughts wander back to her getaway, she didn't even see the person before she ran headlong into them.

"Ow!" She yelped as she hit the ground, her hand bending awkwardly under her weight. Pain shot sharply up her wrist and she groaned as stars flashed in front of her eyes.

"What the-" She heard her assailant mutter indignantly, and looked up only to meet Lycelle Parkinson's hazel eyes. "Granger?" The girl asked, leaping to her feet in one smooth movement. "What are you…Oh. Going to see them before they wine and dine?"

"Erm, yes." Hermione said, put off by the strange girl's almost _nice_ tone and the wrenching pain in her wrist. Cradling the injured hand in her lap, she pulled herself to her feet using the wall as leverage.

"What happened?" The girl asked, gesturing to her hand.

"I fell on it." She said, the irony of the situation not escaping her. Seconds after she had congratulated herself on not twisting her ankle, she twisted her wrist instead. Perfect. The girl cocked an eyebrow, and then took out her wand.

"I know a pain-numbing spell." She said. "It'll last for an hour, but I wouldn't keep it on that long before getting it healed if I were you." There was only the faintest hint of dislike in that last part, whereas most of her Housemates would have laid it on thick.

"A-Alright." Hermione finally agreed, having mostly convinced herself that a third year wasn't going to kill her in the middle of the stairway, not even a Slytherin. The girl moved closer and spoke a spell, the pain vanishing instantly.

"Thanks." Hermione said, but Lycelle acted as if she hadn't even heard her.

"Well, come on then. Let's go get you patched up." She said, turning back the way she'd come.

"Shouldn't I go to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked, and the girl just stared for a moment.

"If we didn't take Blaise to the Hospital Wing, what the hell makes you think we'd need to go there over _this_?" She asked, and it was Hermione's turn to stare.

"Don't you ever go there?" She asked the girl as they started walking again. "Draco did in our third year."

"Yeah, Pansy told me. But that happened in class and it gave him a good way to annoy Weasley and Potter."

"So you all learn Healing?"

"Yes. Some, anyway. But become healers? No. That, as I'm sure you're aware of, is a talent you're either born with or you're not, although many have the potential."

"Do you?" Hermione asked, hoping the young Slytherin wouldn't take offence at her curiosity. She didn't seem to, though, and Hermione wondered why.

"Yes. Many could be. It's _choosing_ to be that makes the difference. Do you?" The girl asked, turning Hermione's question back on her.

"Yes. And I'd like-"

"_Hermione!_" Ron's bellow cut her off mid-sentence. "There you are! Why did you _do_ that? You could have been hurt!"

"I was fine, Ron."

"What's wrong with your hand?" Harry asked as they drew even with them. Sighing for what felt like the fifteenth time that day, she explained her run-in with Lycelle as they continued on their way to the dungeons. Ron was against her not going to Madam Pompfrey, but clipped words and a heavy glare had shut him up. It didn't stop him from shooting Lycelle distrusting looks and from being an ass, however.

"So you're _Parkinson's_ sister?" He asked the girl, who had tensed and withdrawn as soon as the boys had shown up.

"Yes." She said shortly.

"Sorry for that." Ron said, ignoring the girl's withering glare. "It must be hard on you."

"Shut up, _Gryffindor_."

"Make me, _Slytherin_."

"Honestly!" Hermione finally yelled after another five straight minutes of bickering. "Ron, you do realize that you're fighting with a third year, right?" She hadn't meant the 'third year' part as a slight to Lycelle, but the girl looked affronted.

"Yes, well, you just entered that third year's territory, so I'd advise you to all to _shut the fuck up_." Her angry voice and blazing eyes _did _shut Ron up, but Hermione felt the need to apologize. The girl had been okay towards _her_, after all.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Whatever." Lycelle replied, walking ahead of them. They went down the spiraling stairs in silence, before a painting that she'd somehow never noticed before caught her attention, one depicting a silver haired, mercury-eyed wizard.

"Draco has a portrait hanging down here?" She questioned, looking at the face that she had watched change over the years into what it was now. "But I thought you had to be-"

"That's not Draco." Lycelle said nonchalantly, not even looking back over her shoulder to see which painting Hermione had been referring to. Startled, Hermione looked again. She didn't know who the girl was trying to fool, but that was _definitely_ Draco, down to the piercing gaze that had locked onto her and the disgusted sneer twisting the painting's lips.

"What? Of course it is." She argued. Lycelle did turn then, annoyance written across her small, dainty features.

"Do they teach you _anything_?" She asked, then seemed to catch herself and continued in a softer voice. "It's _not_ Draco."

"Then who?" Hermione asked, out of her element and not liking it one bit. The girl obviously thought she should know who it was, but the only person she'd ever seen that looked like that _was_ Draco.

"Salazar Slytherin." Lycelle said, and the Gryffindors gasped, moving closer to get a better look. Sure enough, there was an elaborately engraved silver name plaque along the bottom length of the frame, clearly reading 'SALAZAR SLYTHERIN, FOUNDER OF SLYTHERIN HOUSE, ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS. INVENTOR OF NUMEROUS POTIONS AND SPELLS, AND A PROMINENT SUPPORTER OF THE DARK ARTS. 910 B.C. – 1075 A.D.'

"Oh Lord." Hermione mumbled. Then louder, "Why do they look so much alike?" Lauren opened her mouth to reply, but the painting cut her off.

"It is none of thy business, _mudblood_, why one of my favorite students resembles me. Nor is it thy place to pollute my dungeons. Parkinson! What in Tartarus is she _doing _down here?" Lycelle paled, before responding immediately and automatically.

"She has leave, my lord." The girl replied, and Hermione wondered why she was showing so much deference to a painting, even if it _did _happen to be one depicting their House's Founder.

"Leave from whom?" The painting asked suspiciously.

"Draco and Blaise, my lord." The girl said, and the painting looked almost sulky, as if it had been denied a delectable treat.

"Hmph." Salazar intoned. "And might I inquire as to why they have let this…_trash_ into my House? From what I can see, these are the three _Gryffindors_ that they like even less than most of the others. Red hair, frizzy hair, and an ugly scar. It has to be them. Surely thee jests."

"No, my lord. I do not jest. They allow it for Virginia." Lycelle replied, and Salazar looked thoughtful.

"Well, _she's_ alright. Quite pretty, too. Fine, thee may pass." He said, waving a hand dismissively and causing Hermione to wonder what he would have done had they passed anyway, without him giving the okay. It _was_ just a painting, right?

"Come on." Lycelle hissed when they didn't move, and they started down the dark corridor. The torches flickered in their brackets, casting long, impenetrable shadows along the walls and pooling in the corners. When they reached Slytherin House's entrance, Lycelle whispered the password in an inaudible tone and they went in. Silence fell as it did every time when the Slytherins realized they were there, and they ignored it as best they could.

"Stay here." Lycelle said, as if were necessary.

Like they would actually try to explore with what felt like a thousand malicious sets of eyes trained on their every movement. Right. Maybe if they were suicidal. The girl disappeared into one of the many dark passageways that led from the common room, leaving them alone in an atmosphere humming with tension. She spotted Pansy through the jumble of green and black robes, and gave a sigh of relief. The other girl was currently laying on one of the couches, her head on Melody's thigh and her feet in Anton's lap. They were laughing about something, but Pansy seemed to feel the eyes on her and turned. Seeing Hermione looking at her, she rose gracefully and padded over to them on silent feet.

"Granger." Pansy acknowledged with a tilt of her head.

It amazed Hermione every day how pretty the girl had become. She'd always seemed small, especially when she was around Millicent, but she was actually pretty tall when you got right next to her. Her eyes were as dark a brown as her hair, and the pugish sort-of nose she'd had as a child looked simply striking on her older, sharper face. She was still petite, but muscles now graced her slender form from hours of playing Quidditch, which she'd been doing ever since she'd joined the team last year. Her mouth was the color of pale strawberries, but Hermione thought it looked much better when a nasty sneer wasn't twisting her lips, as one currently was.

"Pansy." She replied, purposely using the girl's first name. Pansy's eyes narrowed momentarily, but she otherwise ignored it, her gaze moving over Hermione's shoulder.

"Ron!" A low, velvety female voice called from behind them, and they spun to see Ginny looking radiant as she crossed the room, heading towards them. She was very nearly glowing, a brilliant smile on her face and her hair dripping on the floor as she moved. The Slytherins she passed greeted her with an air of familiarity and (_gasp_) friendship, which she returned unthinkingly. She was wearing a loose black and silver bathrobe over dark blue pajamas, and looked totally at home. It was new to them, as she'd never looked that way in Gryffindor Tower, or even at the Burrow.

"Hey Ginny." Hermione greeted her as she finally reached them. Ginny's fire-laced charcoal eyes swept over her, and Hermione saw that glimmer again, that flicker of something dark, something she subconsciously felt it was better not to know about. It was gone as quickly as it came, Ginny's eyes moving on to her brother and skipping over Harry entirely.

"When are you leaving?" Her brother asked, even though they were all aware that he already knew, seeing as he'd asked the same question about a million times. Ever since the 'Incident', as they called it, his normal over-protective older brother routine had stepped up about twenty notches. It might have had something to do with the fact that every one of his brothers had cornered him in a deserted classroom and threatened to…Well, it hadn't been pretty, to say the least.

"Seven, Ron, for the fourteen millionth time." Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"Hmph." Ron grunted, rocking back on his heels. "Are you going like _that_?" He asked derisively. There were hisses of warning from the surrounding Slytherins, who weren't even trying to conceal the fact that they were listening to every word.

"Of course not." Ginny replied coolly. Harry made some small movement, and her eyes swiftly flashed to him, filled with a predatorial intensity that was just on this side of 'extremely frightening'. She drug those disturbing eyes away from him almost immediately, focusing again on her brother, the odd light once more dormant. Hermione's breath rushed out in a whoosh, and she realized she didn't even know when she begun holding it. It was that kind of look that worried her. Ginny never looked at the Slytherins or Lauren and Ron that way; only her and Harry. And it was the same way Draco and Blaise looked at them.

"And you'll wear something respectable? Something red?" Her brother questioned. The look Ginny gave him could have melted glass.

"I'll wear what I please." Ginny said, a hint of a growl in her voice. Ron looked dubious.

"And just where are…_they_?"

"_They_," Ginny replied scathingly, "have names."

"Fine." Ron grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where are Malfoy and Zabini?" Knowing that was the best she would get, Ginny rolled her eyes again and replied.

"Getting dressed." She said, an amused, telling smirk appearing on her face. Ron blanched, his arms falling to his sides, and screwed his eyes shut tightly, as if he were trying desperately to erase something from his mind.

"Right." He finally said, his eyes reopening. "What time will you be back?"

"Whenever she pleases." A mocking voice replied, and they watched in surprise as Blaise slid silently into sight. Draco was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual with the two of them. Ginny looked slightly surprised herself, but didn't mention it. Ron, of course, did.

"Where's your other half, Zabini?" He asked, his face scrunched up in a mixture of his almost-constant anger and disgust. Blaise didn't even glance over as he took Ginny's hand, his eyes trained up towards the darkness that obscured the ceiling. Her eyes followed his, then widened slightly.

"What is he doing?" She asked, and the Gryffindors looked up too. They couldn't see anything except two dark, empty balconies.

"The clabbert got loose." Blaise said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Again?" Ginny groaned. "How far up?"

"The top." Blaise replied, his amusement thickening. A small smile quirked Ginny's lips and she nodded.

"He's going to be mad if it rips his dress robes." She commented dryly. Blaise's grin turned feral.

"I wouldn't worry about that." He said, his eyes following what Hermione assumed was Draco's progress through the darkness.

A minute passed in which it seemed they had forgotten the Gryffindors were there, laughing softly to themselves as they watched what the others couldn't see. Then, a part of the darkness turned shimmery, and Hermione realized it was Draco's hair. Except there was something _else_, and he was climbing down the wall like a cat would a tree, in the small space between the two halves of the first balcony. Sharp silver claws slid easily in and out of the stone, and when she squinted, she swore she could see other similar markings already on the wall. He jumped off when he was just clear of the balcony, landing easily and turning to face them.

He was bare-chested, wearing only a dark green pair of baggy pajama pants, and she realized what Blaise had meant about not worrying about his robes. The claws were obviously retractable, as they slid back into his skin in the blink of an eye. Corded muscles played under his pale flesh, and he glided over the floor with a slow, natural grace. There was a creature wrapped around his neck and arm, but all she could see at first was that it had its face buried in the Mark on Draco's forearm, rubbing against it and squealing happily. Small shivers shot down her spine as she gazed upon the parts of the Mark that she could see, but Ron's hands were visibly shaking as he looked at it.

The creature looked up, and she gasped when she realized that Blaise had been completely serious, and that they really _did_ have a clabbert. It was smallish; the size of a monkey, but its hide was a green the color of summer oak leaves and scaled like a dragon's. It had fully working little hands, thumbs included, and webbing between its fingers and toes. Tiny, inch long horns grew from either side of its head, and it had a face that vaguely resembled a human's. Its large mouth was set in a wide grin, showing that all of its teeth were pointy, and it had a large bump under the skin of its forehead. Hermione had read about the creatures before, but she had never seen one.

"Little bugger." Draco was muttering as he walked over to them. As soon as he reached them, the little creature took one look at her and Harry and mewled loudly. Draco patted its head, sneering at their curious expressions. The bump on its forehead shriveled away, revealing a red, ruby-like stone under the skin that was glowing faintly. She'd known that the bump would glow red around muggles, but she hadn't known that they, however faintly, responded the same way to muggleborns, or that it was a stone that caused the bump. And she couldn't help commenting.

"I didn't know clabberts would react that way to…" She hesitated, finally settling on, "Me." Draco and Blaise looked as if they would rather not even acknowledge the Gryffindors' existence, let alone answer her. Ginny glanced back and forth between them, before finally nudging them both in the ribs.

"Let's sit." Draco suggested as the clabbert perched itself on his shoulder, oddly reminding Hermione of pirate movies she'd seen as a child. She steadfastly refused to look at his bare chest as they went to a group of empty couches and cushions, settling themselves as best they could. The clabbert scrambled off of Draco's shoulder and ran over to Hermione, circling around her and chattering wildly. It finally creeped closer, poked her leg with an outstretched finger, and yelped, jumping back and into Ginny's arms. Feeling slightly insulted, she smoothed her robe and drew her lips together tightly.

"She smells funny." The thing squeaked, startling the Gryffindors so badly that they almost jumped off their seats.

"It talks?" Ron asked in disbelief. "I didn't know they could talk."

"As if I would make it a habit to talk to a blood-traitor like _you_." The little creature spat, before pushing up Ginny's sleeve and nudging her Mark, a rattling purr rising from its throat. Hermione felt vague tingles run up her spine again and tried to ignore them, focusing on the clabbert. The _talking_ clabbert.

"Have you seen who you're sitting on?" Ron responded hotly. "That's my _sister _you're rubbing your squatty little head against." The creature leaped, lightning quick, and slapped Ron hard on the face before darting away again. They could do nothing but stare for a moment, before the Slytherins all started laughing. Even Ginny was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Ron's cheek had a tiny, bright red handprint on it, and he looked stunned.

"Did we forget to mention not to insult it?" Blaise asked, a vicious smirk dancing across his lips.

"Forget?" Ron asked in a high voice, the handprint beginning to disappear as his whole face turned red. "Keeping things like that…You're all completely screwed in the head."

"Perhaps." Draco replied. "But I'm not the one sitting around chitchatting while one of my Housemates is hurt." The trio looked taken aback, as they had all completely forgotten about Hermione's wrist. Remembering the pain numbing charm, she looked up in surprise. Harry and Ron were looking at her guiltily, obviously feeling bad. She looked at Draco, however.

"How did you know?" She asked, horribly curious.

"There are burst blood vessels under the skin of your right wrist." He said, his voice bland, and she wasn't really sure that asking him had been such a great idea anymore. She just knew that she wasn't comfortable with the fact that he seemed able to smell her blood while it was all still inside of her.

"Oh." She said weakly. Then drawing herself up, she continued. "I forgot about it because of the pain reducing spell. Lycelle wanted me to get it healed here instead of at the Hospital Wing." No one said anything for a moment, as the Slytherins just stared at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"Not a problem." Ginny finally said, and then looked at her boyfriends. Their eyes widened and they shook their heads.

"No way."

"I don't think so."

"Please?" Ginny asked, skipping an argument and hitting low. They both glared and sighed.

"Why can't she do it herself?" Draco questioned, looking slightly rebellious. "She's healed Weasley before." Hermione knew she had to look sheepish as she responded.

"I haven't gotten that far yet." She said, not able to meet his gaze. She knew by now that he was a really good healer, and she also knew the contempt that she would see in his silver eyes.

"I'll flip you for it." She heard Blaise offer, and her eyes shot back up. Draco nodded, and Blaise pulled a galleon from somewhere. "Heads or tails?"

"Tails." Draco said, and the coin tumbled into the air in a smooth arc, landing back on Blaise's hand.

"Hah! Heads. Your go." Blaise said triumphantly. Draco grimaced, sliding off the couch, and she couldn't help a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. _Wait…Anticipation!? Stop, Hermione, just stop. _Looking back up, she saw Blaise watching her, the look on his face resembling the one he had given her in the Great Hall over a week ago. His hand shot out, clasping Draco's shoulder and causing him to turn.

"Quel?" Draco asked. ((What?))

"I'll make you a deal." Blaise said, then leaned forward and whispered something in Draco's ear. A smirk later and they had switched places, much to the Gryffindors' suspicion. Blaise moved the three feet to the cushion Hermione was on, his knowing eyes burning into hers. He was amazingly quick about the entire thing, although she was positive that he made the process hurt a little more than it had to, but it was over in less than twenty seconds. He returned to his previous spot on the couch, and wiped his hands off on a silk handkerchief. Again insulted, Hermione tore her eyes away.

"Uh oh, Blaise." The little creature said in a singsong voice, jumping onto his lap. "You've got her stink on you now. Better go wash." Blaise looked utterly disgusted and made a face at the creature before wiping his hands on it. The thing squealed, pawing at its face and spluttering curses. It finally calmed down, then looked up at Blaise and glared.

"I'm going to tell your mother." It threatened, spinning in furious circles on his lap. "I'm going to tell your mother that you wiped _muggle_ on me!"

"She's not a muggle!" Ron exclaimed, his face becoming red again.

"Same difference." The creature said dismissively. "Not pure." Wanting to change the subject, Hermione turned to Pansy, who'd been sitting quietly and watching them.

"Did you decide on what I asked you?" She questioned, and Pansy shook her head.

"Not yet. There hadn't been time to bring it up." She replied, and then turned to face Blaise and Draco. "They want us to teach them how to fight." She told them, her face serious, and they simply looked at her for a while as silence descended thickly around the room, the word spreading quickly.

"And why," Draco asked, his voice soft and dangerous, "would we want to do that?" Hermione didn't understand the sudden tension in the air, but kept her mouth silent that time.

"Potter's scared."

"I am _not_!" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet. Quite a few of the Slytherins drew their wands at his sudden movement, but Blaise motioned for them to put them away. They did so, however reluctantly, and Hermione breathed again.

"Then why, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning back into the pillows behind him.

"Don't ask me! _I_ sure as fuck don't want _your_ help!" Harry said, his face contorted with rage.

"And you won't have it." Blaise hissed, the purple in dark blue eyes becoming more prominent.

"No, wait!" Hermione said before they could completely lose it and turn this into more than just a verbal argument. "We really do need your help. Harry, sit _down_." He did as she asked, but was still fuming badly enough that she was surprised smoke wasn't rising from his ears.

"What exactly are you asking for, Hermione?" Ginny asked, laying a hand on each of her boyfriends' arms. They seemed to calm at her touch, and moved closer.

"Lessons." Hermione started. "In…In the D-Dark Arts, if that's what's needed. Everyone knows," she hesitated, "that Voldemort's going to come for Harry, that it's only a matter of time. He can't fight him with only what he knows now."

"You _are _aware of how incredibly stupid you would have to be to fight him in the first place, right?" Blaise asked, tilting his head and examining them. Harry, looking offended, opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione stopped him with a glance.

"Yes." She answered through gritted teeth. That had been harder than she'd thought it would be.

"And you realize that he'll probably kill you?" Draco questioned.

"He'll probably kill you, too." Harry said bitterly before she could stop him. But Draco only smiled.

"No, he won't."

"I knew it!" Ron shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "I knew you were in league with him!" The murderous hisses from the Slytherins crawled over her skin, and Ron's hand dropped back to his lap even as his face stayed triumphant. Draco, Blaise and Ginny simply rolled their eyes.

"You're an idiot, Ron." Ginny snapped.

"And your, your…_things_ are evil! And rude!"

"We are _not_ rude." Blaise remarked dryly. "You're simply insignificant." Ron looked ready to pop when the Slytherins started laughing again, and Hermione stepped in once more.

"Will you help us?" She asked, her voice earnest. They looked at each other for a moment, then towards Ginny. Their eyes were questioning, meaning they would let her make the decision. Ginny's eyes trailed over the trio, that _look_ flashing in them again, but she nodded all the same.

"Well, well." Draco sneered. "It looks like we just acquired some new students. You can call me Mr. Malfoy. Now, for the first order of business," he said, clearing his throat unnecessarily, "Weasley, you do know that you can be arrested for impersonating a human being, right?" Ron's responding howl of fury could be heard all the way to the Great Hall.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Please review! The bath scene earlier was weird for me, as I'm used to writing NC-17 when it comes to that kind of thing, but since I can't post anything more that R here…Well, just tell me if it sucked!


	9. Blood, Bone and Betrayal

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

Author's Note: I'm going to start responding to reviews at the beginning of each new chapter. But as not to take up too much space, it will be directed only to those who review the chapter before. Anyone who reviewed before should know that their comments were extremely appreciated, but this was a recent idea.

So, this story is dedicated to the **Angelfire33**, who requested it. To **slackerchick101**, Salazar will be fully explained later, I promise. He was young in the picture on purpose, please just bear with me. To **Jan**, I hope that your question was answered in this chap! To **tkmoore**, I appreciate your reviews more than just about any! You're the best! **Iced Faerie**, thank you so much! To **a-sam**, I'm really glad you like it! To **Kat Davi**, there's no need to be ashamed! I had a first time, too! (Note: that may have sounded…wrong, but it wasn't meant to be!) To **periodi-scuri**, thank you! To **Meryl12**, yes, yes they are stupid! To **AmYzA**, thank you! To **power of the stars**, you're another of my favorite reviewers! Thank you so much! To **TarynMalfoy88**, you're awesome! Thanks! To **Shadow Psi**, another awesome reviewer who I adore! To **san-lee**, thanks! I'm glad someone else felt like I did! Now on to the story!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia wrapped her thick velvet cloak tighter around her, the chilly night air creeping down her neck. She could have made herself warmer with a thought, but she had learned to appreciate the cold. One would think she would have been warm anyway, considering that she was squeezed comfortably between two young men, but it wasn't as if _they_ were giving off any body heat. And it _had_ been warm in the private carriage that had brought them to Hogsmeade, the frigid air only coming into effect once they'd gotten out. The air was sweet, though, and its coldness was refreshing. It smelled alive, smelled like _freedom_, and she silently thanked Dumbledore once again for letting them come.

Before, they had planned on sneaking out, Draco and Blaise having assured her that there were plenty of ways to leave the castle undetected, but after _that day_, the Headmaster had agreed that it would be good for them. That and the fact that their mothers' venomous glares had been enough persuasion for anyone. Virginia had been surprised once she'd regained herself that day, when she'd learned that her mother seemed to have formed some strange bond with Narcissa and Silana. Draco and Blaise had been equally puzzled, but so far, they had had no further insight as to what had caused it, simply coining it as 'weird mother shit' that they probably didn't really want to know about in the first place.

They did, however, know that the three women had been brunching together every day this last week, which had managed to thoroughly freak out their families almost as much as Virginia's own relationship with Blaise and Draco had. And their families were taking _that_ better than the three of them had expected, which probably had a lot to do with the whole 'dying' factor. She didn't think her brothers or father would have taken it so…quietly, let alone the other Malfoys and Zabinis, if they hadn't just come back from the dead with a god's Mark plastered on them for all to see. But to say that any of them were _pleased_…Well, _that_ would be a blatant lie. Except for their mothers, apparently. They seemed to be utterly thrilled, which was still rather…disturbing, seeing as they'd hated each other little more than a week ago.

After all, the rift between the Weasleys and those two particular families was deep. Pushing such thoughts from her head, she looked up as a gust of warm air hit her. They had reached the office building that was their first stop, which was why they had left at seven. Draco and Blaise had business to deal with before their dinner reservations at eight thirty, and had told her that she was more than welcome to come along, although she was probably going to be bored out of her mind. They'd offered to handle it first and come back to get her, but she'd opted to stay with them rather than listen to her brother harp on for another hour, as she had known he would do if she stayed. So here they were, walking into a posh, elegant waiting room as the ghost doorman ushered them in.

She'd passed this building many times while visiting Hogsmeade, but had never been inside of it before. The sign out front bearing the symbols of Draco and Blaise's families were warning enough for any Weasley to stay away even if they'd had the money or station to enter it in the first place. It was a beautifully decorated room, the high-vaulted ceiling painted with moving murals and the carpet so thick your feet sunk into its silky mass silently. Leather couches were scattered around the huge room, marble end tables and comfortable chairs accompanying them. The many candles, torches and fireplaces gave off a bright, flickering light, making the room appear almost cozy. Silver, diamonds and emeralds glinted at her from everywhere, catching the light and throwing it back in multi-hued rainbows.

Huge, Roman style pillars encircled the room, which itself was a sphere. Numerous doorways led from the room, two goblins stationed at each one. A long, ebony desk stretched across one whole end of the room, behind which sat four stiff-looking witches who all had their heads down, busy working on something or other. The goblins bowed as the three of them passed each doorway on their way to a side door, but how they knew it was Draco and Blaise under their cloaks, Virginia didn't know. She couldn't help continuing to look around as they moved, admiring the priceless paintings, sculptures and vases that were placed throughout the room. Almost everything, besides some of the art, was black, green, silver, purple, blue or blood red, and the colors were all dark, primary shades, none of the lighter ones.

"Stop right there!" A high voice called out as Draco lent forward to open the door they'd finally reached. She saw a smirk grace his features under the shadowy, concealing hood, and knew that he was pleased they'd been stopped. All four witches stormed up to them, wands out and furious scowls on their faces.

"I don't know who in Chaos you think you _are_," a pretty brunette snapped, "or why the hell those damn goblins didn't stop you, but you'll be leaving, _now_, of your own accord or by way of my wand."

"No, we won't." Blaise replied, and something flickered in the witches' eyes right before the two lowered their hoods. The flicker turned into fear within the blink of an eye, the suddenness and intensity of it surprising Virginia. When the four witches dropped to their knees, she shook her head to make sure she was seeing everything right.

"…our sincerest apologies, Lord Malfoy, Lord Zabini." One witch was rambling, her hands shaking visibly. The others followed with similar utterances, their eyes placed firmly on the floor.

"Please don't tell me that you've all turned into bumbling, subservient idiots in the last month." Draco stated, glaring at the witches on the ground. "What the _fuck_ are you doing? Groveling like mere house-elves?" The witches looked up again, their fear melting away at his sharp, sarcastic words.

"We're sorry, my lord, it's just that we didn't know…" She trailed off, and Blaise sighed.

"Yes, yes." He said, waving a dismissive hand. "Bloody fucking Chosen and all. Just cut the shit, all right?" The witches nodded, getting back to their feet, their fear gone. It seemed that they had just needed reassurance. Which, in their own twisted way, Draco and Blaise had just given them.

"We're glad to have you back, my lords." One of the women replied, her hair a shiny auburn.

"Very much so." The forth said, looking at the two young men with unhidden desire. "If either of you require anything, anything at_ all_, just let me know." She said huskily, the invitation hanging heavy in the air. The other women nodded in agreement, and a jealous fury dug claws into Virginia's chest. She threw back her hood, embers burning and growing within her eyes, and delighted in their shocked, terrified gasps as they recognized her.

"They won't be requiring anything from _you_." She hissed, sneering as they stumbled backwards, tripping over each other, their earlier grace gone in a flash. Low chuckles came from behind her and she spun, glaring at her boyfriends. "Oh, shut _up_." She said, and stepped through the door they held open for her, ignoring their amused expressions and the women's scampering. The door clicked closed behind them, and they walked down a long hallway that was plain, but in an extravagant way, if that makes any sense. Reaching another door, she smoothed her cloak down as they answered a series of riddles, gave four passwords, and then cut their fingers, letting a drop of their fresh blood smear across the dark wood. _Typical Slytherins_, she thought to herself. _Always paranoid._

"Accepted." Said a voice from nowhere, and the door disappeared. They walked into the darkness ahead of them, and it uncomfortably reminded Virginia of the doorway that she and Draco had been sucked through in Reverie, the door that had killed them.

But there was no shouted warning in her mind, no crushing darkness, only a swift, tugging sensation before she landed in an office larger than the main foyer had been and even more richly decorated, the heavy scent of myrrh invading her nose with its pleasing smell. One entire wall of the room was made of glass, looking out over a large expanse of choppy water that was blue even in the moonlight. Thousands of lights twinkled on what seemed to be an island not too far out and directly beneath them, and they appeared to be almost forty stories up. Even more stars shown sparkling above them, as the ceiling was made of the same crystal clear glass that the wall was. She'd never seen so many before, and the view was absolutely breathtaking.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, walking closer, completely enchanted. "Where are we?"

"Egypt. Alexandria, to be specific." Blaise replied, walking up behind her while Draco pushed a loose stone on the far wall. A light above the stone blinked into existence, flashed, and went out again.

"Why?" She asked, although she couldn't have cared less at the moment.

"It's been that way since our great-great-blah grandfathers became partners. This used to be at the top of a tower, not a building, but it's always been here." Draco said, meeting them at the window. "There are six of these main offices, one on each populated continent, and then the Head branch in France. They're all Unplottable, and no one else is can enter them without us here, not even our mothers. All of the smaller offices, like the one we just left, bring us to one of these, depending on which one you go to. That's what the stone was for. To let Badru know we had arrived and to allow him inside."

"Did Dumbledore know we were coming _here_?" She asked, doubting it. They just looked at her. "Right." She murmured, her eyes stealing back to the gorgeous view. Thanks to improved eyesight, she could see the people scurrying around below them clearly, all utterly oblivious that they were being watched by two wizards and a witch in an invisible building. There was knock from their right, and she spun around, not even aware that there _was_ a door. Apparently, not everyone came in the direct way.

"Come in." Blaise called, and the heavy ebony door swung open. A wizard who looked to be in his mid-thirties walked in, his dark gray robes sashaying around him and his brown eyes sparkling happily underneath his black hair. His skin was dark, his bone structure defined, and she could see the ancient pharaohs in his face. _A native Egyptian, then_, she thought to herself, _and pureblooded to the last cell if he works for them. _

"Good Evening, my lords." The man said, giving a slight bow. "It is good to see you again."

"It is good to see you as well, Badru." Draco replied. "Come, let's sit." The man nodded, and they all took seats around the fireplace. She shared a couch with Draco and Blaise, and the man sat across from them in a chair.

"We would like you to meet Virginia Weasley." Blaise said when they were seated. "Virginia, this is Badru. He keeps no surname as he is a Brother of Nightshade Hall." She nodded and smiled at the man, gaining respect for him. Nightshade Hall was the oldest and largest wealth of knowledge left to their world. It was a library and a weapons hold, a museum and a temple, just among a few things. The Brotherhood was just as old, fulfilling roles as the Hall's caretakers, scholars, historians and warriors. Said warriors occasionally, and very selectively, hired themselves out to those who could afford their well sought-after services in order to keep money besides donations flowing into the Hall. They were everything in one; spies and courtesans, educated and deadly, silent and loyal to the death, due to a blood oath shared after the contract is signed.

"A very interesting profession." She commented. The man grinned.

"Yes, it is. And I, of course, have heard all about you." He said. "The Weasley who snared the heirs of her family's most hated enemies. The world has slept barely a wink in a week because of you three." Draco and Blaise simply shrugged, obviously not very interested, and she rolled her eyes. But then again, what was fame to them? They'd been known worldwide since their births.

"How _horrible _for them." Draco said sarcastically, waving a hand, which opened a cupboard on the far wall. Four glasses and a bottle of wine zipped towards them, settling easily on the low marble table between them. The bottle poured itself, and each of them grabbed a glass as it floated towards them at a much more sedated speed then when they had zoomed across the room.

"So what's first today? It can't be too much as we just flooed all of those papers to you and the others a few days ago." Blaise stated, leaning back and wrapping an arm around her. The man took out his wand, spoke a retrieving spell, and a stack of papers appeared on his lap along with a self-inking quill.

"Madame Malkin's did well this last trimester, as usual, so there's not much to worry about there, my lords." He said, rifling through his papers. "The other clothing branches in Europe are booming, and the American branches have hit a new high. Globally, for that industry, profits have never been better. The marketing technique you two came up with has worked beautifully, my lords."

"Excellent." Draco said, sipping his wine and motioning for Badru to continue.

"Gladrag's has finally admitted defeat, and wishes to sell." The man said, which brought triumphant smirks to her boyfriends' faces. "They want to know what the current offer is." Draco and Blaise exchanged unconcerned glances.

"Offer twenty million, take it or leave it. Gladrag's isn't that important, after all. It's more…personal than anything else." Draco said, and Badru nodded and made a note on one of his papers.

"It will be done, my lord. Now, a manager at one of the Northwest Canadian diamond mines flooed earlier, and says she found a huge cache in some hidden ice cave, just as you said she would. She sent this for you to look at. The bottom figure is the total estimated amount of what the usable gems found at the site will sell for, at current prices. The jewels are already at the Ireland office for processing and marking, and should be ready to cut by the end of the week." Badru said, and handed them the paper. Blaise took it from him and scanned it quickly before handing it to Draco. She caught a glimpse of the bottom number and nearly choked in shock. _No fucking way. _She'd never seen so many zeroes in her life. And they didn't even seem fazed as Draco handed the paper back.

"It'll do." Blaise drawled, pouring Draco another cup of wine.

"As you say, my lord." Badru replied. "Also, your panel of obsessive labrats finally popped out the latest prototype. They sent me one for each of you so you can approve them before they hit your stores next month, Quality Quidditch Supplies being the first who'll get them in, of course. Since you mentioned that you might be bringing the lady, they sent one for her, also, as I thought it would please you." He said, and Draco and Blaise nodded their approval, showing real interest for the first time. Another wave of his wand, and three of the most exquisite, gorgeous brooms she had ever seen appeared hovering in the air before them.

"Wow." She breathed out, her Quidditch-trained mind whirling in overdrive. The possibilities she could imagine just by looking at them were immense, and she sighed in longing. They were perfectly aerodynamic, the handles made of shining ebony, and she could feel the careful, precise magic that had been painstakingly worked into them. Every twig was shaped beautifully and all she wanted was to run her hand down the side of one, to feel its weight in her palm.

"Go on." Blaise urged her. "If they check out okay, the broom is yours, after all." Feeling giddy, she reached out a shaking hand and closed her fingers around wood that felt like silk, but somehow still had a perfect grip. Shocks shot up her arm, ice freezing her cells, and she looked up at them in surprise.

"Your magic is in them." She said, intrigued.

"Yes." Draco agreed, looking quite smug about it.

"They're even better now then when we first infused them. Wait until you fly it, Virginia. Nothing like it has ever been seen before, and you wouldn't believe how little of our energy it actually takes for each broom." Blaise added, running a hand along his own. "Other wizards won't even notice."

"They're wonderful." She said, completely sincere. She had never seen anything she wanted more, except for the two young men beside her, of course.

"We'll take them out later if you want." Draco offered, smiling at her before returning eager silver eyes to his broom. She turned hers over in her hand, the wood solid in her grip, and yet incredibly light. It was literally almost weightless, and moved at her lightest directing. She noticed an engraving along the side in silver, which read '_The Element' _and grinned. How typically arrogant of them.

"I'd love to." She said. "Are they safe to shrink like other brooms? Or will it affect them somehow?"

"It's fine. They have all the features the Firebolt Infinity does, but more. Much more." Draco said, genuine delight in his voice. _They're almost like children at Christmas_, she thought, before chastising herself. From what they'd said and what she'd heard, neither had had an ideal childhood. Or even a real childhood at all. Every day she looked at them, seeing the bodies of beautiful boys just becoming men, but their eyes always gave them away. There was nothing young or innocent or naïve in those eyes. They could be masters of caring or cruelty at the drop of a hat, but they had never been children.

"I'm glad you approve so far, my lords." Badru said, and made another notation. Putting those papers on the bottom, he cleared his throat and continued as the three of them shrunk their brooms and vanished them. "Oh, yes. This one's from Ludo Bagman, confirming your usual seats in the mid-field Top Box for the Quidditch World Cup this year. You wish to keep them, yes?" He asked, his quill poised as if he already knew the answer. Draco and Blaise said nothing for a moment, then looked at her briefly and grinned in unison. Suspicious, she waited for their response.

"No." Draco said, and Badru's quill almost fell out of his hand as he stared at Draco in shock. That was apparently a first.

"We want the entire Box." Blaise finished after a moment, looking quite pleased about something. Her suspicion grew while Badru stared for a moment longer.

"T-The entire Box, my lords?"

"Yes." They answered, reaching for the wine again.

"I'll talk to Bagman immediately and see if it can be arranged." The man said, and their eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure it won't be a problem, will it, Badru?" Draco asked quietly. Badru paled slightly at the chill creeping into that velvet voice and shook his head.

"No. No problem at all, my lords."

"Good. See that there isn't."

"Of course, of course." There was more paper shuffling. "A witch in Trípolis, Greece, is filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against the company, claiming that a wizard named Jaston Clorbale threatened to fire her if she didn't sleep with him. She _is_ willing to settle without a trial, however."

"How much does she want?" Draco questioned, beginning to sound bored again.

"Five hundred thousand galleons."

"Make it a million if she'll shut her mouth. Put it in the contract and make sure that she follows through. Find out if this 'Jaston' really did do what she says, and if he did, fire him." Blaise said, his own voice as bland as Draco's.

"Yes, my lord. There is also the matter of a few books that have been found. A few books that I am _sure_ you'll be interested in." He said, giving Draco and Blaise a meaningful look. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, were you _always_ this dense, Badru? You know us better than to think we would bring someone here who we didn't trust explicitly. Now tell us about these books." Blaise said, and the interest was back.

"As you wish, my lord. One dates back to the mid-thirteen hundreds; a catalog of deadly venoms that was banned a century later, most of the remaining copies burned. It is very nearly, if not completely, one of a kind. The second is an original copy by Bridget Wenlock's daughter, Mathilda, on Dark Arthimancy spells the ancients used. The third, well," Badru adopted his own smug look, "I have found _it_, my lords." Draco froze in mid-blink, and Blaise's fingers ceased in twirling his glass.

"Found _what_?" Draco asked, his voice taking on a purr-like quality. Badru looked even more pleased with himself.

"A book your families have desired for a very long time, my lords. I found Madkim's last living relative. He had it."

"You found it?" Blaise asked. "You really found it?"

"Do you have it?" Draco asked at the same time, his eyes sparkling. She knew they were excited if their natural synchronicity was thrown off balance.

"Yes." Badru said, grinning from ear to ear.

Another wand flick, and a huge tome fell gently into Draco's outstretched arms. Blaise smiled at her, one of those genuine smiles that she loved, and nudged her, urging her to look with them. His blue eyes were lit up from within, and she couldn't resist kissing him lightly before turning to see the book. Its cover was made of a thick, black leather, which looked incredibly old and had to have preservation spells on it. Strong ones, as she could sense the millennia that the book had seen; she could feel the old power leaking from its very pages and bindings. It smelt like life and death mixed together, smelt like blood and tears and pain, but underlain with hope, love and joy. It reminded her strongly of the feeling she had around Blaise and Draco's book, the book that had brought her to them, in a way. She _was _supposed to steal it after all. But this book felt older, much older, and the power was the same, yet subtly different in an almost intoxicating way.

"Sweet gods, you _have_ found it." Blaise whispered, the closest thing to awe she'd ever seen from him shining in his eyes as he looked upon the book.

"You are _so_ getting a raise for this, Badru." Draco commented, his voice rich with near-bliss. She couldn't stop smiling at them, as they were radiant when they were happy. Which they rarely were these days if they were outside of Slytherin House. Looking at the book again, she noticed that there was a faded, but readable, title. However, it was not written or engraved. It was as if the words had been bleached into the leather itself. '_The Book of the Ever After_' was scrawled across the spine, and she sucked in a breath. It _couldn't_ be. _Oh, fuck. _

"That's…That's…" She couldn't seem to form a whole sentence.

"Yes," Blaise hissed happily. "It is."

"But…But it was destroyed!" She said, not quite able to believe the Book of the Ever After was really sitting in front of her. The Lost Magic…Dear gods, if it _was_, though, then they had the last book of the Lost Magic at their very fucking fingertips.

"You can feel it. I know you can." Draco said, his eyes never leaving the book. She nodded wordlessly, unable to do much else as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sliced the pad open with a fang. He let five drops of blood fall on the cover, rich with Elemental magic, before offering the bleeding thumb to Blaise. The blood sank into the cover as if eaten, and opened just as Blaise's tongue flicked over the small wound. The pages flittered randomly, the sense of power growing, before pausing and falling open. Words packed the pages that were revealed, written in a language she didn't recognize and done in a dark, shimmering green ink unlike any she had ever seen.

"The ink is beautiful." She said wistfully, wishing she could find some the same color. Draco did look up then.

"That's not ink, love." He said, a mirthful smirk curving his frosty lips.

"What is it then?" She asked, surprised.

"Demon blood." Blaise said with all seriousness, and she blanched, she just knew she did.

"_Demon blood_?" She exclaimed, looking more warily at the book. She knew it was mainly a Dark book, written when practicing both the Light and the Dark were as common as breathing, when their people had been known as the Gods' Children. But demon blood was tricky and risky, just like its owners, and this book could pose a very real danger, even for her boyfriends. But she was curious and drawn to it, something within her very blood seeming to sing with its nearness. Her Mark was responding, too, feeling as if it were tugging at her skin in an effort to get closer.

"Yes." Draco said, and shut the book carefully. He stroked the cover fondly before throwing a shield around it, which was followed by a shield of Blaise's and then one of her own, at their prompting. Instead of staying layered, the shields melted and molded together before sucking in and fitting snugly around the book like a glove. The book was then shrunk and Blaise vanished it, the three of them agreeing to pour over it later.

"So, what are we here for besides the usual?" Draco asked. "I know that you wouldn't have insisted that we come tonight when we already had plans, unless something had happened."

"You have been made an offer, my lords." The man said neutrally, all of his previous cheerfulness and smiling gone. Blaise's eyes narrowed.

"What kind of offer?"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then, "One from the Dark Lord."

The absolute silence that fell was immediate. It didn't seem that anyone was so much as breathing, as if the world had frozen. She could distantly feel a thousand thoughts racing through her boyfriends' minds as their faces revealed nothing, and she felt like screaming. Why did that raving lunatic have to fuck with them now? Dumbledore had said they should expect it, and Draco and Blaise had been expecting it for a while. Voldemort had already tried to win them over once, but they would speak nothing more of the experience, except to say that they had (obviously) refused. That was when they were fifteen, though, right before their fathers had died, and each had met him once before then, too. Digging her nails into her palms, she looked back up as Draco spoke.

"So Voldie wants to play?" He asked, and the man looked taken aback for a second.

"Yes, my lord. I…suppose you could put it that way."

"And what does he offer?" Blaise asked, absently twirling his wine glass between two elegant, black-nailed fingers.

"Immunity. Freedom. No persecution from him or his Death Eaters no matter which way the war goes, and the same would be true for your families and friends, also, my lords." Badru said, and Blaise and Draco grew eerily silent, inside and out. There was something in Badru's eyes as he looked at them, something small and glittering, kept alive by faith and trust, fanning brighter with hope. She just wondered what it was that he was hoping for.

"The price?" Blaise finally questioned, his voice soft and barely audible. But something in it made her shiver, and she wondered if they might seriously be considering it. But surely they wouldn't…

"_The price._" Draco demanded when Badru didn't answer. The man cleared his throat and trained his eyes onto the floor.

"A single death, my lords." He responded, his voice once again neutral. He didn't sound the least bit horrified over the thought of her boyfriends killing someone outside of the dueling ring, and she had to remind herself that he was a member of the Brotherhood.

"So he wishes us to kill for him? In order to gain his…_protection_?" Blaise asked, saying the word as if it were a foul joke and draining the rest of his wine before pouring another glass. "Kill who? A disgusted lover thrown off by the forked tongue and body rot? A rebellious Death Eater who just couldn't torture some mublooded little four year old? Or, my personal favorite, Harry Potter, The Boy He's Dying To Fuck?"

"No, my lord." Badru said. Another spot of hesitation. "He wants Dumbledore's head." Virginia barely stopped herself from gasping.

"How stupid does he think-" Draco started, then stopped abruptly.

She knew that Voldemort wanted Dumbledore, but for him to ask two seventeen year olds, and _these_ two seventeen year olds at that, was ridiculous. They didn't like Dumbledore, true, but they _hated_ Voldemort. And for him to send such an offer to them was insulting. Rage building quickly, they both stood simultaneously, brushing their lips over her cheeks before stalking off across the room. They then proceeded to throw the biggest, heaviest objects they could find at the far wall. She and Badru watched silently as an enormous cherry wood desk flew through the air and busted into pieces no bigger than her hand, splinters flying everywhere.

It was followed shortly by the second desk and a slew of priceless possessions, which were just that to them. Possessions, nothing more. One of the statues alone could have fed her family for over a year. Shaking her head and grinning, she turned away from their fury, knowing that they would calm down in a minute. Hell, she was pretty mad about it herself, and she wasn't even the focus of the offer. Finishing her wine, she poured another glass, wondering if they would ever just be able to _relax_, to not have to be constantly on guard. Knowing how slim that chance was, she turned her thoughts from that path. Badru looked over at her, his face still grave, and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"This," he said, motioning to it, "was to be given to you. I had it checked for curses, of course." He handed it to her, and curious, she took it, unrolling the crisp parchment. It read:

_'Dearest Virginia,_

_Forget not my words. All will be forgiven should you return to me. You _will_ be betrayed, angel, and I shall pick up the pieces._

_Tom.'_

The paper fluttered from her fingers to the floor as a sick sense of dread engulfed her. That voice whispered in her mind, the voice from her past and, she now realized, from Reverie. '_Lies…Treachery…You will be betrayed. Trust no one but me, angel._' The same words, words she had also known so long ago, huddled over a worn diary in her bed at night. _He _was who had been inside her head in Reverie; _he_ was who Draco had saved her from. Tom. Voldemort. _Oh gods. _Her vision began going black, and she vaguely heard voices shouting before she realized that a spell was at work on her. She felt so tired, so weak, so alone. She ached, she wanted, she needed, but for what, she couldn't remember. Then _he_ was there again, scratching at her mind and trying to spread his poison.

_'Come freely, angel. I would never harm you.'_

_'Get out of my head, you sick fuck!'_

_'Now is that any way to speak to one who loves you?'_

_'You do not know love beyond love of power, love of greed, love of yourself!'_

_'Wrong, little angel. I know many kinds of love. I shall show you them all.'_

She fought desperately against the hold that he had on her, but everything was so foggy and she couldn't remember how to call her magic, couldn't remember why she was even fighting. It was stupid not to have had Draco or Blaise check that bloody note before she touched it, it was from the _Dark Lord_, after all, but she couldn't even concentrate on that thought for very long. And the pain would stop if she surrendered…That word jolted through her system, screaming in her head. Surrender meant defeat. Defeat was death. Death was not an option.

_'You shall show me nothing!' _

_'In denial, are you, angel?'_

_'No. In vengeance, Voldemort.' _

Gathering everything of herself that she could, she released it all in a tidal wave of power that swept through their open link like a maelstrom. A ragged shout echoed through her head and the Mark on her arm began fueling more and more power into the blast. Her vision cleared as the link, which spanned quite a large distance, snapped, but the power kept coming, both from the Mark and from her core. She saw that a black shield shot with electricity and rimmed in ice was surrounding her, and saw why it was necessary. The room was full of Death Eaters and Draco and Blaise were black and silver stars, slaughtering them like giants would a heard of sheep.

Blood sizzled and crackled along the shield, as did bodies and limbs that were unfortunate enough to be thrown into it. She couldn't even see her boyfriends for the blinding silver glow around Draco and the absolute, blue-shot blackness that obscured Blaise. Her real problem, however, was the fact that she had called on more power than she could control, and she couldn't stop it. And if she didn't get help soon, it would burn her up from the inside. She'd known she'd called too much from the beginning, but it was her only hope of getting free without one of them helping her. And they, obviously, hadn't had a chance to, only having enough time to throw up a shield around her. An idea fizzled into her power-high brain, and she figured she might as well use what was left in her to help them.

Leaping to her feet, magic coursing through every inch of her body, she sprung out of the circle and onto a Death Eater's back. He tried to spin, but she snapped both of his arms backwards and hit him in the throat with her fist. His wand fell broken beside him, and she went for the next. Judging from the bodies on the floor and those still fighting, almost sixty Death Eaters had come on this little escapade. It appeared that Voldemort had an idea of what he was fighting if he had sent so many. It was apparently underestimated, however, as Draco and Blaise weren't even pulling on the Marks' power, and half already lay dead or unconscious on the floor, their bodies mangled and ravaged. They really had caught her boyfriends at a bad time.

She hit the next man in the head with a curse, watching him hit the bloody floor with satisfaction. Battle lust was thrumming through her for the first time, enriching smells and slowing everything down. She threw the link between their Marks open wide to stop the constant humming that was usually reassuring, but was only distracting her now. And she knew, somehow, that that distraction could be very deadly in such a situation. Their blood lust mixed with her fervor as their hearts began beating as one, and she felt their relief and anger as if it were her own. In moments, one of each of their swords had appeared in her hands, and she sent them a silent 'thank you'.

She threw another man flying into a wall seconds later, his head cracking against it before he fell limply to the floor. Another rushed her and she spun, feeling a slight tingling before seemingly unlimited knowledge of sword fighting somehow materialized in her head. She knew that they had somehow sent her their own abilities, though she wasn't sure for how long, so she moved quickly, not wasting any time. The knowledge wasn't controlling her; only guiding, showing her the fastest, most efficient ways in which to handle the situation. The man got right up on her, no wand in sight, and she hit him hard in the face with the flat of Blaise's blade, knocking him to the floor before slamming his face into her knee.

She left a trail of unconscious and seriously wounded wizards and witches on the ground at her feet, time blurring, before she felt someone behind her, sensed that they meant her death, and flipped around, the blades sinking through the person's chest. Her eyes met theirs as they spat a weak curse at her, the poisoned dagger that had been about to plunge between her shoulder blades dropping to the floor. Remembering the old legend about looking your first kill in the face, she ripped off their mask as she kicked another Death Eater in the neck and took out his knees. Then her charcoal eyes met a man's. An all-too familiar man's. She screamed, backing away and falling over a body, landing hard on her hands and knees.

She kept backing away, the swords dragging the ground and slicing the carpet, as she watched the light flicker out of eyes that had smiled with her, laughed with her, cried with her. She couldn't breathe as she watched the freckled hands that had held and comforted her countless times go limp and lifeless. She couldn't move anymore as she saw his head fall back, saw him glaring at her with a hate she hadn't even known he could possess, even as he died. She couldn't stop looking at the wound in his chest that she had inflicted, all because he was trying to kill her. Trying to _kill _her. Her own brother, his scent filled with murder and warning, sneaking up behind her with a dagger dripping nightshade.

Her own brother, who had been plunging that dagger down when she had turned, and had been hidden behind the mask of an enemy her family loathed more than any Malfoy or Zabini. Her hand came up automatically when someone grabbed her shoulder, and she flipped them over her prone form, running fully on instincts. She looked down into Badru's shocked face and released him. Draco and Blaise. He worked for Draco and Blaise. He couldn't be a traitor, they would know. _Traitor, traitor, traitor…_It echoed through her head, and her eyes went once more to her brother. _Traitor. _Choking on tears, a fierce rage built inside of her, burning hot and oh-so-glorious.

The power that was dwindling inside of her flared back into existence, coating her inside and out and lifting her to her feet. Badru was scrambling away from her, suddenly realizing that he was face to face with something much more dangerous than the Death Eaters. Light burst from her skin, surrounding her in a wild red storm that sent a ring of heat billowing out from her and scorching the walls and people in her path. Spinning the blade with an expert's finesse that she didn't usually have, she released her fury on their attackers in blinding flashes of consuming fire and the deadly edges of the blades. No one so much as scratched her after that, as she turned into a whirlwind of metal death and fiery agony. So absorbed was she, that she didn't even notice when the last Death Eater fell.

"Virginia!" Was someone daring to actually face her?

"Virginia, stop! You have to stop!" Whirling, she looked for more of the enemy, but her vision began clouding again.

"Virginia, ma cherí, _please_!" She knew that voice, didn't she? Knew that that voice should never have to beg for anything…But who was it? And where? Why was everything so bloody dark? ((my darling))

"Foutré! She's slipping too fast! Just do it!" And that voice, too…Familiar…Was she lying down? When had that happened? And why couldn't she feel anything? Or see? She could hear and think since the battle fury was dispersing, but otherwise there was nothing. Except the voices that she was sure she should recognize. ((Fuck!))

"Cocidius!" The name shot through her consciousness like a hot knife, jarring her back to reality and to her pain-filled body. Her eyes flew open and she saw two angels kneeling above her. Wondering if she was dead, she tried to sit up only to scream as the pain tripled. Gentle, urgent hands pushed her back down again, baring her right arm.

"Heed us, Cocidius, by blood and bone, for your Chosen need your aid!" One of the angels called out, and her arm began burning hotter than the rest of her. She vaguely thought that she usually loved the heat, but it was as strained and blurry as everything else was, except for the pain. But then it was gone, as quickly as it had come, and soothing darkness covered her in a tight shell. Slowly, she felt herself healing, and then faster as more energy poured from her arm and from something attached to both of her hands. Memories began coming back, speeding by in flashes and bursts of feeling, before she bolted upright, gasping.

"Thank you, my Lord." Two melodious voices intoned from either side of her, and she looked up to face her 'angels'. Hah. But they _were_ currently her heroes, and she figured she was entitled to be very, very shaky and clingy.

"What the fuck happened?" She asked as their arms wrapped around her. The scent of their blood reached her after a moment, and she stiffened. Were they hurt?

"It's nothing, ma âme." Draco said softly, as if reading her thoughts. Which he wasn't, or she would know. "Scratches. We needed blood spilled on our Marks to ask for help. You burned too much power, love, too much for even our Healing skills. But you are fine, now, oui?" He asked, stroking her hair with his hand. They were soaked in blood, as was she, but the scent of theirs stood out over the rest, like a rose among weeds. ((my soul)) ((yes?))

"I'm okay." She said, but that wasn't entirely true. A face flashed in her mind, bringing the horror rushing back. "I killed him." She whispered, her voice cracking.

"Killed who, love?" Blaise asked softly. "You blocked us suddenly, right after you screamed."

"Percy." She choked out, her throat tightening. They pulled back the smallest bit, in order to look at her, shocked.

"But isn't that-?"

"Yes." She responded, the first tears spilling down her cheeks and steaming as they hit her skin. "My brother."

"I don't understand." Draco said, which was rare. "He was here? As a _Death Eater_?"

"He tried to kill me." She said, her hands beginning to shake. "Oh gods, oh fuck. Percy. _Percy_ tried to kill me. Nightshade…This can't be happening. It just can't." She moaned, covering her face with her fingers. Their hands ran over her, soothing and petting as they cooed soft words of regret and sorrow in the old tongue, their musical voices coating her soul. Her tears flowed for what seemed like hours, and she felt as if something were constricting around her chest, getting tighter and tighter with every breath that she took.

"My lady, is there anything I can get for you?" Badru's voice floated to her through her haze.

"I'm not a Lady." She replied blankly.

"Yes, my lady, you are." He said with conviction. "A most magnificent one."

"_Magnificent_?" She questioned, acid creeping unconsciously into her tone. "How can you _say _that? Perhaps you didn't hear correctly?" She asked, her voice rising. "My _brother_ just tried to stab me in the back. Literally. My _brother_ was a traitor, and his blood flows through my veins." Saying it aloud brought tears she didn't think she had left pouring from her eyes. "What's my family going to say?"

"What do you mean?" Blaise asked, kissing her tears away for the umpteenth time. "I'll doubt anyone will brand you a murderer like they did us."

"No." She said, fighting to find the right way to explain. "This is going to fuck them up. Badly. The first Weasley to ever betray the family, and it happens _now_. My brothers will never be the same, and my parents…" She trailed off in misery, not looking forward to the next few hours nearly as much as she had been. Another date, ruined. Draco and Blaise exchanged glances, before Blaise nodded slightly and Draco turned back to her, something strange in his eyes.

"It can all disappear, Virginia, if you but say the word."

"What?" She asked, confused. Blaise's fingers stopped tracing mindless patterns on her hip, and he looked at her through hooded eyes.

"It can disappear." Blaise repeated. "They'd never know what really happened; never know that he betrayed you all. If you wish to spare them this," he hesitated briefly, "we will leave no trace." She did understand, then, what they offered her.

They wouldn't be in trouble for killing Death Eaters, as it was imprisonment or death on sight for anyone with the Dark Mark, let alone the fact that they were on their own property when it happened. And it would be a perfect way for them to say '_See? Fuck you_' to the general population, and to get pesky Aurors who thought that _they _were Death Eaters off of their backs. And what could be a more perfect way for the two of _them_ to do something good? Mass slaughter was definitely a unique way to achieve that goal. Their publicists were going to _love _this. That, or commit suicide. But they were offering to make it all go away, to give all that up, as if it had never happened, just to save her more pain. And she couldn't let them do that.

"No." She said, shaking her head weakly. It just sounded so _nice_, as if she'd be able to forget her brother's eyes in those last few seconds if only she could spare her family the same pain.

"Yes." They both countered, helping her to her feet.

"Badru, assemble a clean up team, now. Move this pathetic filth and burn it. And it's not your fault you didn't detect the curse on the letter, so quit looking so bloody guilty. And yes, that _is _how they got in. The curse activated a portal, one made by a Demon Lord if it was strong enough to get in here, even with that curse helping. Voldemort paid a high price for such a risky plan. If so, he's stupider than I gave him credit for." Draco said, and it was the most information she'd ever heard him willingly indulge at once to anyone except for herself and Blaise.

"You can't do this!" She said. "You need something to convince them that you don't work for that fucking lunatic or you'll be fighting _two_ wars! _We'll_ be fighting two wars!"

"And why should we need to prove anything?" Blaise hissed in anger, not at her, but at the situation. "Even_ if_ they believe we're not traitors, they'll just shun us for something else. The Dark Arts, our names, our magick. And people wonder why we want the remaining bloodlines kept pure. Before we started interbreeding with muggles, _all _magic was understood and accepted. Our families were their fucking _protectors_, for the love of Gaea, up until our fathers. It's amazing how quickly people forget that our titles hold actual _meaning_, isn't it? Amazing how quickly they'll line up to call you evil and foul for practicing the same magick that defended them from threatening Dark Lords for centuries." Slightly stunned at the venom in his voice, she said nothing at first. She couldn't really argue with that anyway.

"And now that your fathers are gone?" She questioned after a minute. Midnight blue eyes met hers, filled with dark knowledge and the kind of resignation only duty can bring. They then flickered to Draco, who nodded in understanding and continued for him.

"It cost them their souls to ignore our families' binding ties to the land. And we are Chosen, after all. But many of the customs that came with our families' protection were mere courtesies, courtesies which we have decided to ignore. We will fulfill our role as we were meant to, and offer refuge only to those who kneel and bind themselves as we are bound. Those who refuse will be on their own, and quite literally when the fighting begins, as those whose loyalties are not certain shall not live on land owned by us. And they're going be horribly surprised when they realize just how much of their precious little world we own."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"I've got a bad feeling." Ron said out of nowhere while the trio was catching up on their studies in their common room.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Hermione asked, reluctantly looking up from her Charms essay. She was surprised when she saw that he was almost green and sweating heavily. His eyes looked slightly wild and his hands were shaking like autumn leaves. "Ron!"

"We have to go to Dumbledore. Now." He said, getting unsteadily to his feet and swaying. Harry jumped up, his books falling unnoticed to the floor, and put an arm around Ron to get him steady. He then shot her a worried glance, and she nodded, putting away their stuff.

"Okay, Ron. We'll go see Dumbledore." She agreed. He was starting to scare her with the crazed, vacant look in his eyes, and she thought the presence of their Headmaster would be a huge relief. He would tell them everything was fine, and send them to bed. Oh, no, wait, that would only happen if they were any _other_ students. They scrambled out of the portrait hole, and had to run to keep up with Ron as he dashed down the hallways. They were halfway there when he started really freaking out.

"She's so sad…Why is she so sad?" He was mumbling to himself. "Something's wrong, someone's sad, but who…GINNY!" He yelled suddenly and tried to bolt away in the wrong direction. They pulled him back, and had to drag him the rest of the way while he spat curses at them and tried to get his wand, which Hermione had pocketed. But when they found Dumbledore already waiting for them, they were so surprised they let him go. Luckily, he was just as shocked. Dumbledore nodded at them, his eyes blank, and it was almost scary. A tight feeling settled in her stomach, a growing sense of unease spreading throughout her body.

"Yes, I expected you. Tonight was promised to be a dark one, and now I believe it will be. I had still hoped when you had not come sooner…But alas, they must be found. Perhaps help can still be given." Dumbledore said, trying and failing to look like his usual cheerful self.

"We're going with you!" Ron stated boldly, defiance in his eyes. But Dumbledore only nodded again.

"You are of age now. I cannot stop you. And I would rather have you with me than running all over the place looking for your sister yourself." He said, and Ron temporarily deflated.

"Okay. They're at The Silver Swan." Ron said morosely, alternating between clutching his stomach and his head. Dumbledore turned sharp eyes to him.

"What ails you, Mr. Weasley?"

"I don't know." He said. "My stomach and my head started hurting, a girl started screaming and crying, and then…I'm not sure. We found you? I just know that something is _wrong._ I don't know how, so can we please go?" He asked, the desperation creeping back into his voice. Dumbledore agreed, and then on their way out of the castle, got Professor Snape to come with them, much to the trio's discomfort. A standard horse and thestral-less carriage already stood by the gates, as one always did for the teachers and parents to use, and they hopped inside. A spell later and they were rolling down the drive.

"We pass under the wards in a minute." Dumbledore said. "We'll Apparate to The Silver Swan from there. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir." They chorused, and Snape sneered at them, his eyes full of loathing and disgust.

"_Honestly_, Albus," he said sarcastically, "when did we start bringing _children_ on this sort of thing?"

"We're not children!" Harry said hotly. "And your precious Slytherins that we're going after are the same age as we are!" Snape's glare was positively withering.

"You're a fool, Potter." He said softly, his voice low and unlike they had ever heard it before. "You believe yourself grown when you know _nothing_. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini are already older, wiser and more mature then you could ever hope to be. And if I were _you_, Mr. Potter," he wore a look that said he was very pleased not to be, "I would reconsider my holier-than-thou views on everything, because I'm under the impression that you need a favor from a few of my students. And I can guarantee you that you won't keep their help long if you act like – well, _you_."

"That's enough, Severus." Dumbledore said. "We've cleared the wards. Come along." The carriage lurched to a stop and they climbed out onto the gravel drive. They Apparated seconds later, appearing outside a restaurant the size of a small mansion. It was also a hotel, and it catered only to society's elite. They were the only one's who could afford so much as a glass of water there anyway. The doorman took one look at the trio's robes and sniffed, sticking his nose in the air until he saw Dumbledore and Snape.

"My lords!" He exclaimed, and hurriedly opened the door. Harry looked surprised at the titles, but Hermione, naturally, already knew from her studying, and Ron did because he had grown up knowing who was who in the wizarding world. They walked into a large room that practically oozed elegance, and a finely dressed waiter in immaculate robes came up to them.

"How may I help you, my lords?" He asked, not even acknowledging the trio after an initial glance. It was obvious neither he nor the other wizard had seen Harry's scar because of his hair.

"We're looking for Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Virginia Weasley. They had reservations tonight." Dumbledore said. The waiter nodded.

"Yes, that they did. They never arrived, however." He said, and the growing worry solidified into a solid weight that made her feel sick. Ron made a choked noise, and Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed.

"What time was the reservation for?" He asked.

"Eight-thirty, my lord."

"But they left at seven." Ron said miserably, his previous panic beginning to return. Dumbledore thanked the waiter and they went back outside.

"They have an office here in town." Snape said as soon as they'd gotten away from the doorman. "I think we should look there next." Everyone agreed with him, as they had no idea where else to start looking. They didn't even notice the rich surroundings of the place they entered after Apparating that time, too distracted to appreciate the dark beauty around them. They headed straight for the large desk, ignoring the hisses of the goblins.

"Can I help you?" A blonde witch asked when they stopped in front of her. She passed Dumbledore over with a slight grimace, did the same with the trio, but then stopped when she saw Snape. "Oh, hello, Severus."

"Good evening, Jaelin. Are Blaise and Draco in?"

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, and he shook his head. "Sorry. Can't let you in without one. Anyway, they already went to their real office."

"In _Alexandria_?" Snape hissed, and the witch rolled her eyes. Hermione gasped softly and Ron paled. Alexandria?? What the hell were they doing there?

"Where else? This _is_ the Hogsmeade location, after all, and it's a one-way ride, as you should know. Anything else?"

"No, we'll use the floo, I suppose." Snape replied, sighing, and they turned and went to one of the rows of fireplaces that people were coming steadily in and out of, even at that hour. The fireplaces all had large, accessible pots of floo powder ready to use, one of which Snape dipped into to floo Narcissa and Silana, who agreed to meet them in Alexandria. He tried Molly, too, but no one was at the Burrow. Then he held out the powder.

"You want to go first, Albus? I'll follow after them."

"That'll do." Dumbledore replied and took a pinch of the powder. "Malfoy and Zabini Enterprises, the Alexandria branch!" He said clearly, throwing the powder in and disappearing in a flare of flames.

Harry went next, then Hermione. She stepped into the flames after giving the location, and felt the familiar spinning sensation. Fireplace after fireplace whipped by, continuing long after it would normally have spit her out. When she had finally given up hope that it was ever going to end and was positive she was about to be nauseous, it slowed gradually, which she had never felt it do before. Feeling as if she had landed on pillows, she looked up and into a room nearly three times the size of the one they'd just left. It would have reminded her of the British Ministry building, with the size and all of the fireplaces, except that it had the same dark colored decorating and art that the other office had. She stepped out onto the plush carpet, seeing that she wasn't even covered in soot.

"Move, Hermione!" Ron said from behind her, and she hurried forward to where Harry and Dumbledore were waiting. Snape appeared a moment later, and the three of them began the long walk to the front of the crowded building. An exotic witch looked up to help them when they finally made it there, staring at them blankly.

"Welcome to Malfoy and Zabini Enterprises." She said in a high, sweet voice. "How may I help you?"

"We need to see Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, please." Dumbledore said, and there was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, mimicking the other woman perfectly.

"No. It's an emergency."

"I'm afraid I can't help you." She said, her face turning hard but her voice staying polite. "Unless you have an appointment."

"Would it help at all if we told you that scrawny rat was the Potter boy?" Snape asked, smirking at Harry's glare.

"No." The woman snapped. "But it might get you removed from the building." Well, _that_ was definitely different from any reaction they had received before when people discovered who Harry was. They saw Narcissa and Silana step out of a different fireplace suddenly, and waved to them. They began walking over, and the woman behind the desk gasped, quickly straightening her robes.

"M-My l-ladies! What c-can I d-do for y-you?" She stammered when they joined the small group.

"We wish to see our sons." Narcissa said regally, an air of authority wrapped around her like a cloak. "_Now_." She said when the girl just kept staring.

"Of-Of course, m-my lady. The Lords activated the s-stone almost two hours ago, and Badru already went up. They said if you ever came to this office and they were here that y-you were to be let up. Here," she said, and waved her wand, which made a noise like a bell chiming. "Garai will show you the way, as you've n-never visited us here before." She said, and a young, balding Egyptian man came out of a door behind her. He bowed to them and led them silently to a different door. They climbed two short flights of stairs to another door, which the man whispered a series of passwords into, did a few complicated, blurred wand movements, and then pressed his palm flat on the door's surface.

"Accepted." A disembodied voice intoned, and the door swung open. Fresh, cool night air hit their faces as they stepped out onto a black marble balcony. Looking around, they couldn't see anywhere to go besides back inside or two stories down.

"What the hell?" Ron asked. "What are we doing _here_? I want to see my sister!" The man said nothing, simply touched one of the banisters and twisted. Without a sound, the entire balcony began slowly moving upwards, to the trio's astonishment and Dumbledore's delight.

"Excellent!" He exclaimed. "Whoever did you find to do this?" He asked the silent man, who still said nothing. Silana did answer him, however.

"I'm imaging that our sons did it. All of the balconies at our homes do this now." She said, and Dumbledore actually looked slightly surprised. And impressed.

They rose higher and higher over the city, the view becoming dazzling and more than slightly frightening until Narcissa noticed their distress, and with a long-suffering sneer, informed them that there wards were encircling the balcony. They asked how she knew, and the look she gave them could have wilted a flower to its roots. She didn't look at Ron, though, only at her and Harry, and Hermione knew it was probably because of her new friendship with Molly, and because her son was with Ginny. Or maybe it was just because Hermione and Harry had 'tainted blood' in her opinion. But whatever the case, and even with the numbing dread in her gut, Hermione couldn't help but become entranced with the sight afforded them as they rose and rose. Finally, so far up the ground was nothing more than blackness and twinkling little lights, the balcony stopped.

"Blood is the living river." The man said from behind them, the first truly audible noise that he had made.

A door appeared in the wall, carved of glossy ebony wood and engraved with ancient runes. The man did another series of movements and whispered words, before the door swung open and the smell of sweat and fresh blood hit them full on. Pushing forward, their movements becoming hurried, they nearly fell inside in a heap, barely disentangling themselves in time. The sight that greeted them was one that Hermione would remember forever. The floor looked like a lake of liquid darkness, but they soon realized that that was just what an enormous amount of spilled blood looked like on black marble and carpet. The walls were wet with it too, especially the glass one, and the room had been torn almost to pieces. Bodies in stiff black robes and telltale masks littered the floor along with severed limbs and…_Was that a head? _

She'd been wrong. _Now_ she was nauseous. Running to the wall behind her, she threw up until there was nothing left, the thick smell of blood and death still choking her. Wiping her mouth, she looked up and saw that Ginny was huddled between Draco and Blaise, and all three of them were covered from head to foot in gore. Willing herself not to dry heave, she walked around the bodies on wobbly legs, Harry running up to her and letting her lean on him. He was ashen and looked as if he, too, had been ill, and Ron was running towards Ginny. Narcissa, Silana, Snape and Dumbledore were also moving towards her and the two Slytherins, and Hermione noticed another man she'd never seen before crouched beside them. Draco and Blaise each had a twin set of swords strapped to their backs, and the long, deep gashes down their forearms were the only wounds that she could see.

"Ginny!" Ron yelled, grabbing her from between her boyfriends where she had frozen, staring at him with wide, shocked and horrified eyes as he pulled her into a tight hug. The look on Ginny's face worried her and she cursed her shaky legs.

"Ron, _no_. Oh gods," Ginny said, pulling away from him. "Why are you _here_? Why did you have to _come_?" She asked, her voice growing nearly hysterical. She turned back around, burying her face in Blaise's neck and wrapping her arms around Draco's waist. Her shoulders were shaking and Hermione gaped. She had _never_ seen Ginny cry before. What the hell had happened here?

"What happened here?" Narcissa asked, echoing her thoughts. She ran a loving hand through her son's blood-soaked silver hair, as if it were nothing new for him to be standing before her in such a state. He turned to look at Blaise over Ginny's head, and sighed.

"Well," he said, "it looks as if our decision was just made for us."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Please review! I would really appreciate knowing what you thought of this chapter! Thanks for reading!


	10. L'veille de Guerre

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

This chapter is a birthday present for Kelly, a.k.a. **tkmoore**! Happy birthday, girl!

My responses to my wonderful reviewers for the last chapter: To **OpalKoboi**, they aren't. This chap might clear it up a bit, but there _will_ be more of that sort of interaction. To **AznDreamer802**, thanks! To **Kat Davi**, yes, I know, but it will happen eventually, I promise! To **power of the stars**, that really sucks! I hope you can still find a way to continue reading. To **Jan**, thank you so much, and I should have another chapter after this one posted too by the time you get back. To **Chaney**, I'm glad you've been enjoying the story. Please tell me what you think whenever you feel like it. J To **DRACOSGIRL15**, thank you! To **a-sam**, **short arse**, and **Psi**, I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing! To **Lady-Nimoe**, yes, yes I do! lol. To **seri-chan**, you're awesome! Thank you soooo much for the lovely review! It means a lot to me. To **periodi-scuri**, never to worry! I promise much, much more! To **angelfire33**, he meant the decision on whether or not to cover the whole thing up. I'm happy you liked it otherwise, though! To **aoi-yuki-yume**, thanks! You're awesome and please keep reading! To **musiclover86**, thank you so much! Now, onward!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The gods sat down silently, everyone fully aware of why the Full Court had been called for the first time in centuries, but waiting for one of the Kings to speak and formally announce it. And it was not just the Full Court of Heaven assembling, but the Dark Court as well. The Courts did not usually mix well, for obvious reasons, and this was no exception. The Hall of Divine Justice was split almost completely down the middle, the gods of the Sky Realm to the right, the gods of the Underworld to the left, and the few neutral gods were spread out between the two. They no longer separated by pantheons on a normal basis, but this had been deemed a completely formal event. The only gods not with their brethren were those few sitting at the long table in front of the Royal Dais.

Cocidius sat there, of course, as he was the reason for this Gathering, and he was flanked on both sides by a few of the gods that supported him, two from each pantheon. Ares, the Greek God of War, sat on his left with Thanatos, the Greek God of Death, next to him. Anuke, the Egyptian Goddess of War, sat beside Thanatos, while Am-Heh, the Egyptian God of Destruction, the Devourer of Millions, sat beside her. Mars, the Roman God of War, sat to Cocidius' left with Neptune, the Roman God of the Sea, next to him. Loki, the Norse God of Fire and Trickery, was beside Neptune, and Skadi, the Norse Goddess of Winter and Hunting, was beside him. At each end sat the two Celtic deities. Donn, the Celtic God of the Dead, sat by Am-Heh, and Taranis, the Celtic God of Storms, was next to Skadi.

The Royal Dais was made up of ten sets of thrones, alternating white and black marble. The Kings and Queens of the Underworld lounged upon the silver-veined black sets, looking utterly relaxed compared to their counterparts, the Kings and Queens of the Sky Realm, who sat stiffly on the gold-veined white thrones. On the far right, in the first black set, sat Isis and Osirus, Amun-Ra and Mut beside them on gleaming white, the feel of Egypt's heat and old power rolling from them. The next black set held Hades and Persephone, the white set Zeus and Hera; all smelling of long-forgotten magic and Greek forests. Then came the Celtic Afallach and Macha seated on black, Dagda and Dana on white beside them; thunder trapped within their eyes.

The forth black set was occupied by Pluto and Proserpine, the white by Jupiter and Juno; the civilized barbarity and crushing weight of ancient Rome in every movement that they made. Hodur and Hel sat on the far left set of black thrones, Odin and Frigg on the white, their faces as hard and icy as their homelands. There _was_ another set of thrones on the dais, with one black throne and one white throne instead of two, but it was empty, as usual. It was very nearly impossible to get _those_ two in a room together without some sort of major catastrophe. She knew that they were listening from afar, but Sulis still thought that it was sad, as they had once been the best of friends, back when the world was new and they were relatively…_young_. The word sounded so foreign to her.

"Silence!" Ra's voice cut through the whispers, speaking in the common tongue of divinity since mortal languages, even the archaic forms that the gods preferred, sounded harsh and strange in their mouths. Sulis closed her eyes briefly, before snapping them back open. It was beginning.

"The Full Court has been assembled this day," Zeus begun, "to deal with a pressing matter."

"No." Isis said, tilting her head to the side, her long, dark braids spilling over one delicate shoulder. "We are here today to deal with your stupidity." Murmurs broke out again. Isis was very nearly enraged about something, no matter how calm she looked, if she was already insulting the rulers of the Sky Realm. Zeus started to reply, before Hera lightly touched his arm and shook her elegant head.

"We are here," she said, "to address the issue of Cocidius and his recent actions."

"For those of you not yet aware of what has occurred," Frigg continued for her, "Cocidius broke the Ban, intentionally and deliberately, by Marking two wizards and a witch as his Chosen." No one moved or spoke. They already knew. Everyone had felt the renewed ties between their Realms and the mortal one after he had stopped shielding them.

"Cocidius, how do you plead?"

"Guilty." Cocidius responded clearly. "And quite pleased about it." The Light Realm royals looked offended.

"As you say. You are being charged with breaking the Ban, Marking three humans and-"

"One human, actually." Cocidius interrupted Dagda. "With the other two, that is…questionable."

"_Fine_." Dagda nearly hissed, before catching himself and making the word sound simply clipped. "Three denizens of the Shadow Realm, then. You are also being charged of Awakening altars and sending aid to your illegal Chosen the day they were Marked _and_ just now, mere hours ago in their time. You are also being charged for tricking two Greek deities into helping you make the first contact with said Chosen."

"_Tricking!?_" Ares and Aphrodite exclaimed in unison, while Mars, Skadi and Loki started snickering into their hands.

"We were _not_ tricked!" Ares said, and Zeus glared daggers at him. Ares noticed the look, and his wolf-like eyes narrowed. "We broke no laws, so you can stop glaring at me, Father. Take out your marital problems on someone _else_." He said nastily, the tension in the air between them long past humming, having changed to something more like hysterical screaming after the last time that Zeus had cheated on his mother, Hera. It wasn't usually referred to publicly, however, and it just further proved how very much on edge they all were.

"Enough!" Hades demanded. "You know that I agree with you, nephew," he said, looking at Ares, "but now is not the time. And the charges, however stupid," Hades smirked at Isis, "are as stands. Cocidius, do you have anything you wish to say?"

"Yes." Cocidius replied, rising from his seat and causing Mars' hand to fall gracefully from where it had been lying on his shoulder. "I wish to say that I regret _nothing_. I would do it again in a mortal heartbeat, and should have done it sooner. My Chosen are brilliant and strong, as strong as the First Born were while in the Shadow Realm. Loyal and cunning, fierce and deadly, protective and loving, they are everything we meant for our Children to be. Quickly on their way to becoming warriors and scholars alike, they blend Darkness with Light in ways I have not witnessed their kind do in much, much too long. I wouldn't give them up if you handed your Realms to me on a golden platter, so do what you will. It changes not the decision I have already made." The Hall was completely silent for long moments that seemed to stretch on forever, before Dana spoke.

"And what decision is that, my son?"

"That nothing you say or do will take them from me. They are _mine_, their souls Marked and Marking in turn, and I refuse to deny them any longer." Cocidius said, and Dana looked resigned. Sulis realized why when she saw the intense delight on Dagda's face.

"That is your final word, Cocidius?" Dagda asked, barely able to keep the glee from his voice. Cocidius nodded.

"Yes."

"So be it." Dagda replied. "I, along with the other Light Sovereigns, decided your punishment earlier, should that be the case. As a member of the Sky Court, you understand that you must fulfill that punishment, yes?"

"Yes."

"You are banished from the Shadow Realm for the next millennium." Dagda said, smiling as if it were good news. "Keep your Chosen, if you will, but you won't be able to help them or communicate. Not until they Pass, at least." He added, waiting for Cocidius's reaction, as was everyone else. The gods that were spread out along the table with Cocidius stood, beginning to channel power in order to help him escape. But Cocidius waved them down, shaking his head, and they stared at him, surprised. He only smiled at them slightly, before vaulting over the table and landing lightly on his feet before the dais.

"I, Cocidius, God of Forests, Hunting and War, acknowledge and understand your terms." He said, giving them a mocking bow.

"Then you will abide by them?"

"No. I choose to Fall." Cocidius replied, and gasps were ripped from divine throats all around the room. No one had Fallen in…Well, the last was long before man. The Kings and Queens of the Underworld very nearly shrieked in triumph, jumping up from their thrones and laughing full out at their counterparts, who looked stunned. To Fall meant that he removed himself from the Sky Court, removed himself from their control, becoming completely a creature of the Underworld. And that was what the Dark Sovereigns had wanted for literal ages, especially his father, Afallach.

"_You cannot Fall from Heaven!_" Dagda yelled, forgetting himself and losing his temper. "I will not allow it and you have not the power to do so on your own!"

"Don't I?" Cocidius asked too quietly, and a blacker-than-black portal began opening in the ground behind his feet. "You wish it were so, don't you, Dagda? Wish that I were weaker than you? Do not think that I do not know why you have wanted to keep me from fully embracing the Dark Realm all these millennia. Do not think that I stand unaware of prophecies or that I do not know about the power I will gain when my Dark half cancels out the Light."

"I will not al-" Dagda started, but Cocidius cut him off, speaking words not heard for hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of years.

"I revoke my title as a Prince of Heaven as I revoke your rule over me, and I shall rule from Hell, answering to the Dark Sovereigns alone. Kings of Light, Queens of Sky, hear my words and heed them! Witness my descent into Darkness." With that said, he tilted back, and Fell. The watching gods and goddesses could only stare blankly as they felt the rippling aftershocks of his passing through the Sky Realm, and then sensed him crash through the Shadow Realm, causing freak storms and earthquakes all over the planet, before slamming into the Underworld with the force of a nuclear explosion.

"How _dare _he!" Dagda exclaimed after a few minutes of shocked silence. "He thinks he can just, just-"

"Mind your own throne, Dagda." Afallach snapped, though his eyes were filled with long-awaited joy. "Had you treated my son as he _should_ have been treated, as _we _treated him, it would not have come to this. You tried to keep him from power out of fear, and we all know it. Your insufferable Ban begins to break, and I will laugh as the last of it shatters around your miserable head. But for now, the Dark Realm shall celebrate the return of its Prince. Enjoy your defeat." He said, and the Dark royals laughed before disappearing. The portal in the floor had closed, no trace of what had just occurred remaining. The other gods who called the Dark Realm home also began leaving, victorious smiles upon their faces. And as Sulis looked around, she noticed that the deities of the Sky Realm looked very nearly rebellious at the loss of one of their favorite Princes. Wishing her brother safe, she took her leave, the night's events wearing on her heavily.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They'd been waiting to be released from Ministry custody for hours, answering endless questions and trying to keep their anger in check. Virginia was wrapped in his arms and had been for what felt like forever, while Draco stood stiffly behind them, his silver eyes cold and steely. The room they were in was nice, much better then most got, as they'd been pulling strings since they'd entered the building. Their mothers were furious that they were even being held as long as they were, but with over fifty dead bodies and a dozen unconscious ones on the floor of their office, they didn't have much choice at the moment. Of course, Blaise knew that had it been, say, Bill and Charlie Weasley who had killed a bunch of Death Eaters, they would have been patted on the back and sent home long ago.

But they weren't Weasleys (thank the gods), and it appeared that even _that_ family wasn't infallible. Percy's treason had been quite a shock even to him and Draco, and not much did that anymore. But there he had been, face down next to a poisoned dagger, with the Dark Mark burned into his flesh. Blaise had been the one who had found him in the mess of bodies, having left Virginia safely with Draco. Ron (which Blaise was currently referring to him as, since he knew he was about to be surrounded by Weasleys and wanted to get them straight in his head, as he couldn't hope to call them all the same thing) hadn't believed them at first, going so far as to push him and demand that he prove it. Infuriated that the little shit had so much as touched him, he'd very nearly broken both his arms.

One look at Virginia's tear-stained face had changed his mind, however, and he had settled for grabbing Ron's shoulder and digging his fingers in just hard enough to prove a point. One that should have been clear to the bastard long before, and was based very simply on the fact that Blaise could crush his bones into dust without even really trying. He had then proceeded to drag the fucker around the room, saying that he needed his scent next to him so he could find Percy's, which should resemble it. It had been bullshit, of course, since Blaise's nose was so sensitive that he could have accurately put the bodies back together again, piece by piece, like a giant human jigsaw puzzle. He'd just wanted to make the little rodent wade through dismembered bodies.

He'd seen that that was the last thing on earth that Ron had wanted to do, and if the little Gryffindor freak got nightmares over it, it was just an added bonus. His face as Blaise had carelessly kicked severed limbs aside had been positively priceless, especially when he had 'accidentally' tossed a finger at him. The flailing, spinning, swatting dance that Ron had then preformed was sure to run through his mind countless times in the future. And if he was honest with himself, which he usually was, he had also wanted the idiot to see how much better his brother had gotten it, compared to the rest. The less pain her brother felt, the less pain Virginia would feel. And putting a smile back on her beloved face was his main priority, even if it meant he had to be _mostly_ decent to her family.

After the Aurors had shown up, they had been taken to the Egyptian Ministry, waiting there for an hour while the case was transferred to Britain. They had then been moved to that Ministry, where they were currently waiting to view the security recording crystals from their office. After that, they were told they would be released, but the Auror who imparted that information hadn't looked very positive about it. Blaise, however, was _quite_ positive of it. His patience had been worn nearly to the breaking point already, and he would tear the fucking place to the ground if it meant that he and Draco could get Virginia the fuck out of there. Why in Chaos did it have to be _her _that had run into Percy first?

He sure as hell wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, but he knew that she would. And it didn't even seem to be about killing him, as she wasn't moping over the other filth they had slain, but more about her family. They would be there any minute, and he could feel the nervous tension in her lithe form. He knew what she was so scared of. She feared that she was about to earn her family's hate. He doubted that that would be the case after they watched the crystals, but should it be…All he knew was that if they really turned on her, if they really hurt her _that_ much, he and Draco would be digging quiet graves by the end of the week. But, once again, he seriously doubted that that would be the case. Of course, he'd also seriously doubted that a Weasley would ever turn traitor.

Everyone else and their grandmothers had always been possible suspects in his mind, because the nasty truth was that no one could really be trusted. Except for Draco, and now Virginia, but their circumstances were a tad bit different than most. But he had never suspected a _Weasley_ of being a _Death Eater_, and it made him rethink a lot of things. Virginia shifted slightly in his embrace, and his eyes wandered back to her. She had learned an important lesson this night if nothing else, even if the situation hadn't been ideal. It was a lesson that he and Draco had grown up their entire lives understanding all too well, and it all came back to the same thing in the end. Trust _no one_, not even your family, especially during a war.

The majority of people are too fickle, too greedy, too _swayable_, for you to ever really trust them. Sad, yes, but still true. Footsteps approaching from down the hall caught his attention, and his gaze lifted to meet Draco's. A short glance was all that was needed to see that he had heard them too, and they waited silently until the door opened. The Head of the Auror department, Carrick, came in, followed closely by Virginia's parents and siblings, and Draco and Blaise's head lawyer. The Weasleys looked stressed, but not horrified, so he knew that they hadn't been told what had happened yet. They rushed over to Virginia and he moved faster than their eyes could follow, joining Draco behind the couch.

He hadn't wanted to let her go, _ever_, but he'd be damned if he was in the center of a Weasley pile-up. Draco gave him a sympathetic glance and played with a strand of his hair, which was still damp from the quick washing spells they had been allowed to perform so that their blood-soaked appearance wouldn't completely alarm the Weasleys or give their lawyer, Satordi, a heart attack. Ever since the incident with their fathers, he'd had to take potions daily for stress and high blood pressure. If he'd come in again to see them covered in blood and thicker things, he might have quit. It had taken him some time to arrive, having been on business in America, but their team of lawyers, which Satordi headed, had been with them for the earlier questioning and had only just left, along with Dumbledore, who was going to meet with the Minister.

"What happened?" Molly asked, glancing at them, the Golden trio and Severus, before her eyes landed on Draco and Blaise's mothers.

"Much has happened tonight, Molly." Narcissa responded carefully. "Perhaps we could watch the crystals now?" She asked, directing the question at Carrick.

"No!" Virginia said suddenly. "You can't make them find out like that!" She exclaimed, and her family's faces grew wary and more concerned than before.

"Ms. Weasley, the Minister said-"

"I don't care!"

"Baby," Molly started, "I'm sure it will be fine. But shouldn't we wait for Percy?" Virginia made a choking noise and stood, pushing her family's hands away. Stumbling, she made her way around the couch, ignoring the looks they were giving her, and Draco and Blaise were at her side immediately.

"Do what you want." Virginia intoned mechanically. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"We'll get started then." Carrick said, and pulled a glowing blue crystal from his pocket. "Now, Lord Malfoy and Lord Zabini have denied us the right to view the entire crystal, so we will only be seeing what is directly relevant to this case."

"Case?" Arthur asked. "What case? What's going on? Is Ginny in trouble? I knew those boys-"

"_Arthur!_" Molly cut him off, her cheeks beginning to flame. Shooting Blaise and Draco apologetic looks, she turned back to her husband. "We're about to find out. Carrick, go on. We'll fill Percy in later. He's probably busy with work, as usual. Although it _is_ quite late, even for him." She said, causing everyone but the Weasleys to look slightly uncomfortable, some more than others.

"Oh gods." Virginia whispered, burying her face in Draco's neck and squeezing Blaise's hand hard enough that had he been fully human, something surely would have broken. Sending pulses of soothing energy to her through his Mark, he tangled his free hand in her hair, kissed the top of her head, and turned his attention back to the others.

"Alright." Carrick said. "If everyone would take a seat?" They did so, scattering throughout the medium-sized room, and once they were settled, he continued. "I'm sure you all know how these work, but if not, it will show us a three-dimensional hologram in the center of the room. _Ostendo_!" He said, pointing his wand at the crystal. Trails of blue smoke began rising from its smooth surface, growing and spreading until they began forming a foggy shape. It cleared soon enough, though, and their Alexandria office appeared before them. Draco, Blaise and Virginia were sitting on one of the couches, Badru in a chair across from them. Their mouths moved silently for a moment, before another spell from Carrick had Draco's liquid voice crawling over their skin.

"So, what are we here for besides the usual? I know that you wouldn't have insisted that we come tonight when we already had plans, unless something had happened."

"You have been made an offer, my lords." Badru's image replied.

"What kind of offer?"

Silence. Then, "One from the Dark Lord." The Weasleys sucked in a collective breath, paling as the hologram continued. They watched with wide eyes as Badru explained the offer and how the price for it was Dumbledore's head. When Draco and Blaise's images didn't immediately say 'no', the Weasley males looked at them accusingly. No one spoke as the images of the two Slytherins threw furniture into the walls, watching the wood splinter on stone as if the heavy desks were nothing more than children's toys. The scene focused on Virginia and Badru, as the man's image handed her a letter.

"This," he said, motioning to it, "was to be given to you. I had it checked for curses, of course." Badru's image stated. Blaise remembered the following events clearly, so he wasn't surprised when he saw his and Draco's images stop suddenly, turning just in time to see what was happening as they'd sensed something amiss.

"No!" Their images shouted, but it was too late and Virginia's fingers had already closed on the letter.

Her image's eyes glazed immediately, even as they raced over the words on the page. Draco and Blaise's images were next to her in seconds, as the letter fell from her hands to the floor. They were yelling at Badru to tell them exactly what had happened one second, and the next they had thrown up shields before he even knew what was going on. They had felt the breach in the wards stemming from that damned note, and had had only one thought before the Death Eaters had appeared in the room. _Protect __Virginia_The Weasleys all gasped as the robed and masked figures came out of nowhere, throwing curses before they'd even fully materialized. In another split second, black and silver shields deflected the first wave, tossing the hexes back at their owners.

That was when things had gotten…messy. It had never occurred to Blaise to record himself fighting before, so watching it was a new experience. But watching a recorded image of Draco fighting…Well, that brought many new ideas for those crystals into mind. Draco reminded him of a jungle cat; sleek, swift, deadly and beautiful. Blaise watched carefully as they fought with claws and magic before calling in their swords. That was when the Death Eaters' lines had begun to break. Too many among them knew those blades, and too many among them had thought that attacking the two who wielded them was foolish to begin with. But there had been one thing Voldemort had definitely not anticipated. It wasn't by any means easy to enter any of their offices without an invitation, but it was _impossible_ to leave.

So it hadn't mattered when they had decided to retreat. They'd turned vicious when they'd realized that they were trapped, and Blaise remembered losing track of time completely until they'd felt Virginia release a torrent of power. Minutes afterward, she had thrown the link between their Marks wide open, and they had been able to focus completely on the fighting. Not having had the opportunity to watch her fight earlier, he relished the experience. She'd fought with natural talent in the beginning, but it had turned into fierce expertise when they had sent their knowledge to her through the Marks. Blaise hadn't known if it would work or not, but they had thought it worth a try. And then it happened. Virginia's image blocked a curse with a wall of fire, before slamming the hilt of Draco's sword into a Death Eater's head.

No one watching moved as they saw another figure sneak up behind hers, a wicked-looking dagger dripping poison in its hand. The renewed fury that coursed through Blaise's system surprised him, and he once again wished that it had been his hand that had caused the bastard's death. The Death Eater raised the blade high and then brought it rushing down, and Molly gave a small shriek before they saw Virginia's image spin at the last second, Blaise and Draco's blades sinking into the Death Eater's chest simultaneously. Her family stayed utterly quiet as they watched her image observe tradition and rip off the Death Eater's mask. They didn't stay quiet a moment more, however, as they collectively exploded.

"What the fuck is this!?" Bill demanded.

"Is this some kind of joke!?" Fred yelled.

"I knew you guys were fucked up, but this is the limit!" George spat, while they drew their wands. Charlie took his in hand as well, staring disbelievingly at the hologram that Carrick had frozen when they started screaming. Molly and Arthur were doing the same, but their wands stayed put up. It didn't even seem as if they were still aware of their surroundings. Going immediately on the defensive, Blaise and Draco hissed in unison, flashing fangs in warning.

"It's not a joke." Virginia said, her voice soft but carrying. After seeing it like they just had, she seemed more angry than upset. Her brothers stopped dead and stared at her, their faces going green and causing their freckles to stand out vividly. Then they turned to their youngest brother for confirmation, as if they believed that if he said it was just a twisted joke, everything would be okay. _Welcome to reality, Weasleys, _Blaise thought to himself with more than a bit of vindictive pleasure. He loved Virginia to death, but he couldn't stand her holier-than-thou, lily-white fucking family. And he very much doubted that that would ever change.

"It's true." Ron said morosely, and their features fell while Molly began sobbing, his words having reached her even in the odd state she seemed to have fallen into. "He had the Dark Mark."

"You can't be serious." Bill argued, but there was no heat in his eyes like there had been moments before.

"I'm afraid he is _very_ serious, Mr. Weasley." Carrick said. "This is the first major attack the Dark Lord has made in three years of almost complete silence. We stand on the eve of war, and must begin it with a tragedy." He paused, looking slightly nervous. "You all do understand the law, yes?" He asked, looking from Draco, Virginia and Blaise to the Weasleys.

"Yes." The Weasleys chorused dully, numb with shock, while the other three stayed silent. Carrick looked at them questioningly, opened his mouth to say something, and then seemed to think better of it, turning back to the Weasleys.

"Then you know that you will be under suspicion yourselves until you partake in drinking Veritaserum before the court?"

"Yes." The Weasleys repeated, not even looking at him. Blaise and Draco didn't take his assumption quite as kindly, however.

"You fucking wish." Draco snapped, his eyes beginning to frost over. Apparently, he was at the end of his tolerance level as well.

"You've been trying to get us to swallow that shit for you for years." Blaise added, furious. "Do you really think that we'll do it now, when we haven't even done anything wrong?"

"The law states-"

"Would you like to try and force the issue?" Draco crooned, his words becoming honeyed poison, which was a very bad sign. "I could teach you so very many things about pain."

"A-Are you t-threatening me, Lord Malfoy?" Carrick stuttered, trying and failing to keep the hint of fear from his voice. The scent of it was sweet, and Blaise felt that sharp edge of cruelty rise up from within him, seeing the same happen in his lover's mercury orbs. Virginia noticed the change immediately, and couldn't hide the hunger in her own charcoal eyes. It was one of the many reasons that they loved her as much as they did. She embraced both sides of them equally, understanding the mix within them as no one else ever had, since she experienced it herself.

"_Threatening _you? Would I do something like that?" Draco questioned, making it perfectly clear by his tone that he would. The man blanched.

"O-Of course not, Lord Malfoy." Then, seeming to remember he was in a room full of people in the middle of the Ministry, he apparently fooled himself into thinking that he was safe, and his voice grew harder. "But we really must insist. I'm not sure how you two got out of it the last time, but we are adamant. Money can't get you everything." He added the last in a fit of boldness.

"Want to bet?" Blaise sneered, gliding forward slowly as the scent of fear lingered in the air, drawing his instincts to the forefront. "You'd be surprised. And what money can't acquire, power can. You're no match in either arena, and you would do well to remember your place. Unless, of course, you'd like to duel? Would you enjoy stepping inside the circle with me, Carrick?" He asked venomously, and the man took several steps backwards, going white.

"N-No, Lord Zabini."

"Coward." Draco laughed mockingly. "Smart decision, although I would have loved to see _that_. Whatever would your Aurors say when you were bested by a student?"

"That's enough, Draco." Narcissa said softly. "I'm sure Carrick is willing to be more…_reasonable_." She arched an elegant eyebrow at the man. "After all, I doubt he would want to lose his job after his family so recently got out of debt." Carrick's eyes widened impossibly, and he looked as if he'd suddenly remembered who he was fucking with.

"Fine." He said, sounding defeated. "No Veritaserum for the Lords."

"Or for the Weasleys." Blaise said silkily, enjoying the family's looks of surprise. The things he did for that woman…

"Excuse me?" Carrick asked with a look of disbelief plastered across his face. "Why would you care what happened to _them_?" He blurted without thinking.

"Not very bright, are you?" Draco asked, smirking coldly. "And it's not as if you need to know why in the first place, now do you?"

"No, Lord Malfoy."

"Good. Now can we leave?"

"Yes, Lord Zabini. You may, but the Weasleys will need to stay a little longer for the standard questioning that you have already…indulged us with." Carrick said, the color coming back to his face. Blaise looked at him suspiciously.

"Will they now?" He asked softly, and then turned. "Satordi?"

"Yes, Lord Zabini?" Their lawyer asked, his shrewd black eyes catching everything. He was a tall man with rich brown hair that he kept clipped, a muscular build from his years as a Beater, and a thick French accent. He was still quite young by wizarding standards, barely in his forties, but he didn't look so much as thirty. He was quick, intelligent and adaptable, which is why they'd kept him around after their fathers had died. Not to mention that he was utterly loyal, quite like Badru. Blood oaths were a marvelous thing.

"You will stay with them. Legal traps can be tricky things," he said slyly, casting a meaningful glance at Carrick, "and you are the best there is, Satordi. Should anyone try anything, advise them truly, as you would us. I would hate for my beloved's family to experience firsthand what it is like to fall from public grace. It only took one member apiece for our families, too, after all."

"We would never-" Carrick started, before Draco cut him off.

"Never what?" He asked viciously. "Turn this into a worldwide scandal? I'm sure you'll try, as it's what your kind does best. After all, if there are no big, nasty Dark wizards, then what's an Auror to do? So no, Satordi will stay. We can't stop this from going public, but we can ensure that nothing…_unfortunate_ happens to them because of some technicality." He then put on a charming smile, his silver eyes going limpid as he looked at Molly. "If, of course, that's alright with you, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, Draco, it'll be fine." Molly said, her eyes huge and haunted as she tried to smile at him. "You'll take Ginny with you?"

"If that's where she wishes to be." Draco replied neutrally, though Blaise knew that Draco wished to get her out as much as he did. Virginia's head snapped up, her eyes flashing.

"You wish me gone?" She asked in a strange voice, and Blaise quietly sucked in a breath. _Shit. _

But before Molly could answer, a loud humming noise filled the room and Blaise, Draco and Virginia put their hands over their ears in a pointless effort to block it out. It was so _high_, his ears felt as if they were bleeding, and he realized moments later, when he tried to throw an aural shield up, that his magic was going haywire. The shield spell filled the room with dragonflies instead, and he saw that his lovers' hadn't done any better. The others were staring at them as if they'd gone insane, but Blaise couldn't concentrate, on them or anything else really. He was almost sure that his head was about to liquefy, and he fell to his knees as the white-hot pain spread from his skull to his chest, the damnable whining noise growing even louder.

The Mark on his arm was searing, and he ripped his sleeve off in a frenzy, not too surprised when he saw the skin bubbling. He couldn't think long enough to figure out what was going on, but he could feel an insistent tugging and followed it instinctively. His vision was going out, but he saw the others finally covering their own ears right as he bumped into silky hair that smelt like Draco and Virginia. The pain continued to spread, and it felt as if something heavy had descended over the room, crushing them. Everything began shaking, pictures falling off the walls while the building moved as if it were swaying. The pain finally became too much, and as the world around him went black, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.

_'Forgive me, my __Chosen__. Let go and come to me. I shall make the pain stop.' _

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, wishing more than anything that they could leave. She hadn't said a word since they'd found Draco, Ginny and Blaise covered from head to foot in blood, and hadn't been able to so much as look at Ron after Blaise had led him to Percy's body. She'd been surprised at her reaction, which was made up of more anger than grief, and it had all felt so surreal…It wasn't, though. It was all _very_ real. She listened silently as Draco and Blaise refused to take Veritaserum, as their cloaked threats had a man much older than them backing down, and felt a vague moment of surprise when they extended their immunity it to the Weasleys. But she became fully aware again after Ginny questioned Molly.

Alarm bells sounded in her head when there was no response. Hermione looked up quickly, and then gasped as she saw that Blaise, Draco and Ginny had all frozen, their eyes clouding over and their hands going to their heads. Seconds later, they screamed, the sound brutal and cutting, almost tangible. The room filled with bats, dragonflies and phoenix song as their spells went awry, and Hermione sprang up from her chair, running as close to them as she dared, trying to find out what was happening. Something was obviously hurting them, but what? She couldn't stop herself from gaping as they fell to their knees, their faces contorted in anguish and their eyes rolling back in their heads. Their nails dug at the cheap carpet underneath their fingers, as if they were fighting to hold on.

They seemed to come back a little, as they desperately ripped their sleeves off in unison, and she felt sick again when she saw the distorted, moving flesh that was revealed. It looked as if worms were twisting around madly underneath it, their Marks a fierce red before turning black. Blaise somehow managed to crawl towards Ginny and Draco, and they both reached for him at once, as if they knew he was there, yet couldn't see him. All three's eyes were glazed and filled with agony, and their bodies began convulsing violently. She wanted to help, but she had no idea how. Severus, Narcissa, Silana, Harry and the Weasleys were also crowded around, their faces pinched with worry and the beginnings of panic.

And, right as Blaise made it to them, she had heard something. Faint at first, it quickly grew louder, until she covered her own ears, trying to make it stop. The pitch grew higher and higher, before something slammed her to the floor. The ground was moving, bucking and heaving, and she couldn't regain her feet. Then it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, leaving her facedown with ringing ears. Someone grabbed her, pulling her up and checking for injuries, and she looked up to see Harry's distraught face looming over her. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear anything, and she began to frantically wonder if she had gone deaf. A minute later, though, sounds started coming back.

"I-own-ee, car boo kay?"

Shaking her head, as she obviously wasn't hearing right yet, she got to her feet, wobbling. Her legs felt like jelly, and a splitting headache was beginning behind her eyes. Everyone else also appeared to be getting to their feet, except for Ginny and her boyfriends. They were crumpled in a pile, their eyes wide and unseeing, not even blinking. They _were_ breathing, however, and she let out a small sigh of relief. Otherwise, they were utterly still, but it was better then the earlier, racking spasms. Moving to them immediately, where Narcissa, Silana, Severus and Molly already were, and she took the only available spot, which was between Narcissa and Molly. Looking down, she realized that Draco's head was right by her lap, lying on Blaise's thigh.

Blank, silver-turned-steel eyes stared right at her, and she clenched her hand into a fist. How could she find him beautiful? It was a question that she had asked herself many times, but she had never come up with an answer that satisfied her. She knew that he was dark, and more than likely quite evil, but he had a face that an angel would die for. She found Blaise beautiful as well, but he terrified her most of the time, loathe as she was to admit it. She had watched them both at first, before Blaise had noticed one day the year before. Her eyes had been on Draco at the time, and she didn't know what Blaise had seen in them, but he hadn't liked it.

The look he had given her had made her feel as if his gaze alone were peeling off her skin, and she had stayed as far away from him as possible after that. There had still been the occasional run-in, of course, and the look of disgust that filled his midnight eyes and scrunched his perfect nose had been like a punch in the stomach. Draco had been completely oblivious, but Blaise had scared the shit out of her. She had known, frighteningly clearly, that he would kill her if she ever so much tried anything with either of them. Which she wouldn't. She didn't _like_ Draco, no matter what Blaise thought, damn it. It wasn't her fault she couldn't stop looking at him. And Blaise…

Well, she wasn't really sure that you _could_ genuinely like someone who you were afraid to so much as breathe wrong around. It was probably just morbid curiosity, anyway. But looking down at the mercury-haired beauty beside her, something in her chest began aching. Pushing it furiously away, she looked over at Ginny. The younger girl was beautiful herself, and one of the luckiest people Hermione had ever met. Who wouldn't want two gorgeous men head-over-heels in love with you? Not to mention two gorgeous, rich and powerful men. Determined not to become some jealous hag, she shook her head and looked at Narcissa.

"What do we do?" She asked, and the woman turned.

"I would tell you to pray," Narcissa said, her face echoing the severely disgusted expression that Blaise always had around Hermione, "but I doubt it would do any good." The '_coming from you_' part was left unsaid, hanging in the air between them. Uncomfortable, Hermione turned away, suddenly feeling very drab and plain next to the chic, aristocratic woman beside her. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have seen Draco's eyes finally blink. Spinning, and forgetting the woman's disdain for her, she tugged on the sleeve of her silk robe.

"What?" The woman snapped, turning away from Blaise, where she had been looking him over after checking on Draco.

"Look." Hermione said, and pointed. His eyes blinked again, and a soft groan came from Blaise at the same time.

Light poured into those gray eyes, turning them back to their normal shining silver, and Draco shot up, looking around wildly. Blaise and Ginny bolted upright at the same time he did, breathing raggedly and clutching their forearms. Their eyes met each other's and they calmed slightly, letting their hands fall away. Their Marks were back to the way they usually were, a rainbow vortex of swirling colors, except they were…darker, somehow. Ginny stretched out an arm, flexing her fingers, before her eyes met Hermione's. The look in them was unsettling, as if Ginny could see right through her, and Hermione recognized that look. She'd been receiving it often enough the last week. But she only then recognized it for what it was. A predator scoping out its prey.

"Baby?" Molly asked, looking at her daughter with tears streaming nonstop down her cheeks. But Ginny didn't even turn around, just let Draco and Blaise help her to her feet as they fixed the sleeves of their robes. Something was wrong; Hermione could feel it. Looking again, she reeled when Blaise met her gaze. There was nothing remotely human in his eyes, less even than in Ginny's. Not wanting to, but _needing_ to, she turned to Draco, fighting to keep her expression bland, and wasn't as surprised when she saw the same look mirrored there. The three of them said nothing, making their way for the door as everyone stared.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Arthur asked, and Ginny stopped, turning slowly. She looked at her father with darkly intelligent, alien eyes, before tilting her head and replying.

"It isn't safe for us do be around certain…people, at the moment. And we were told we were free to leave. I believe you left my choice to me." She said, her voice dry and bored, and she turned to leave again.

"But what happened?" Molly asked, getting unsteadily to her feet with Silana's help. "Are you okay?" Ginny froze, and when she spun around that time, she did it slowly, precisely, her eyes burning.

"_Okay?_" Ginny asked, as if the word were strange to her. "My brother, whom I was supposed to be able to trust no matter what," she shot a slightly suspicious glance at her remaining siblings, "tried to murder me tonight. I, instead, murdered him. Tomorrow, it'll be worldwide headlines. How many pictures of that room do you suppose they got this time? How many pictures of us when we had first left it, covered in blood? Oh yes, mother, everything's just fucking _peachy_." She finished sarcastically.

"It wasn't your fault, Ginny." Ron said, looking at her closely. She seemed vaguely surprised.

"Oh, well, I know _that_. After all, _he_ was the one trying to kill _me_."

"Ginny?" Charlie asked hesitantly, stepping forward. His eyes were filled with grief and sorrow, but underlain with rage, which was something that Hermione had never seen from him before. "You know that the rest of us…I mean, you know that we wouldn't do what _he_ did, right?" He asked hopefully. But Ginny only looked at him for a few moments, before her eyes flickered to Draco and Blaise, who stood like silent, deadly sentinels behind her, and then back to him.

"Perhaps. But I've come to realize that there are only two people I can truly trust." She said with a sense of honesty and conviction that stunned her family. Saying nothing else, she left through the door Blaise held open for her, her fire-like hair streaming behind her. Eyes swept over them, sapphire and silver, crawling over their skin before turning to each other. Something silent passed between them, and Draco stepped out with Ginny. Blaise shut the door behind him, before facing those still in the room.

"She loves you still, you know, so you can quit looking as if the world has ended." He said, a lock of bluish-black hair falling over his face as his piercing eyes pinned the Weasleys in place. "She is hurt and confused, and should never have had to do what she did tonight. But she's strong, stronger than you've ever given her credit for, and she _will_ recover."

"And who's going to help her?" Fred snapped. "_You?_"

"Think what you will of us." Blaise replied, the purple in his eyes becoming vibrant. "But we _do_ love her. And if we have to tear this world apart piece by bloody piece in order to keep her happy, then so be it. But I am…_asking_ you," he said it strangely, as if the words were new to his tongue, "not to make this harder on her then it already will be. No matter what the circumstances, slaying your kin, even in defense, isn't easy on anyone." He left that statement hanging in the air, the implications of it as obvious as the threat in his voice. He made to slide out of the door, but his mother and Narcissa reached out and stopped him.

"What happened?" They asked, and he kissed their cheeks lightly before stepping back.

"Cocidius has Fallen, in order to keep us." Blaise replied, the tiniest hints of adoration and something very close to joy leaking through his mask. Then he was gone, between one blink and the next. No one said anything, as Severus once more joined the two women, and the Weasleys huddled together. Harry and Hermione stood off to one side, feeling out of place, especially when the Weasleys began to grieve. Agreeing with a look that it was time to get the hell out of there, they left at the same time Carrick chose to do the same, except that he stayed right outside the door, so he could finish the questioning in a bit.

"And just where are you two going?" Carrick asked nastily, obviously feeling the need to vent on somebody after his earlier humiliation at the hands of two seventeen year-olds. But Hermione's nerves had been stretched, pulled and stomped on too many times lately. Something inside her snapping, she spun on one heel, pulling on every ounce of remembered disgust that the Slytherins had always viewed her with and letting it fill her eyes, turning them disdainful and cold as they traveled over the pudgy man. She started at his scuffed shoes, then continued up his mediocre black robes, over his out-of-shape figure, and ended at his piggy little eyes.

"You listen to me, you nasty little man." She hissed, and he looked surprised. "What we do and where we go is absolutely none of your bloody concern. You're nothing but a weak, spineless bastard, a mind numbing irrelevance that is utterly reprehensible in every way. So if I want any shit from you, I'll just squeeze your head, understood?" She spat, and stormed off down the hall, Harry at her heels.

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione! That was brilliant!" He said, a real smile on his face.

They turned a corner, and stopped at what they saw. Nine hooded figures stood in the hallway, talking in hushed voices and what looked like hand signals to Draco and Blaise. Virginia stood between the two Slytherins, a haughty smirk on her lips as she laughed. Each of the hooded figures had two symbols emblazoned upon their cloaks, a set of crossed black swords outlined in green on the left side of their chests, and a silver set outlined in the same on the right. Hermione recognized the crests of course, and remembered reading something in an old book on wizarding families about the Malfoys and Zabinis' sworn guards wearing cloaks like that, except they had been two separate groups before. Draco's gaze traveled over to Harry and Hermione lazily, before dismissing them altogether with the same uncaring nonchalance.

"Prick." Harry murmured under his breath, and then louder, "Fuck them. Come on, Hermione. The exit's this way." He said, and grabbed her hand, pulling them down the hall towards the group.

As they drew closer to them, Hermione's eyes once again slid, _mostly_ involuntarily, to Draco. His eyes were so bright she was surprised they didn't cast shadows, and his hair was the color of Christmas tinsel, although she knew it was softer than that stuff could ever dream of being. She started when his eyes met hers, and something like surprised understanding swirled within their mercury depths. He took a step back, looking faintly ill, and she felt her throat close up with tears. _No_, she realized as she found herself pinned to a wall by her neck, _not tears. Ginny's hand. _Sharp nails and shockingly strong fingers dug into her flesh, as the crazed vixen before her snarled. Meeting Ginny's enraged eyes, she tried to let the girl know that she couldn't _help_ it, tried to let her know that she would never, _ever_ be a threat. It didn't, however, work.

"You had to test me _tonight_, didn't you, Hermione?" Ginny growled, a terrifying fire beginning to swirl inside her smoky eyes. "What is it, hmm? Are my brother and Harry not enough for you? Did you need a change? Or was it just amusing to see if you could get me or Blaise to rip your fucking eyes out?" She asked furiously. Hermione tried to give a sign of denial, but she could barely move since Ginny had her hands stretched above her head, her free hand on her throat and a knee in her stomach.

"Ginny, no!" She could distantly hear someone calling, someone who sounded like Harry, but the world had narrowed down to nothing but her and the dangerous creature in front of her. Who, at the moment, seemed to want nothing more than to see her blood run. Ginny solidified that belief seconds later.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, mudblood?" She asked, the word she knew Hermione hated the most slipping from her lips as if it had always belonged there. "Do you know what I smell?" Hermione screwed her eyes shut, trying to deny the primal hunger she saw in those charcoal orbs. "Food." Ginny continued, her lips right next to Hermione's ear. "You're nothing more to me than something that would taste delectable should it be sliced open and bled dry. Your blood may be tainted, but it least it's edible."

"Ma âme." A velvet voice cut through Hermione's horrified haze. "Someone comes. Finish with her, but mind your brother's…reaction."

"They gave me their hunger, Hermione." Ginny whispered, leaning even closer and licking a small trail up the side of her neck. "As did our God. And sometimes, I can barely resist tearing out your throat for the simple pleasure of _doing_ it. You're very lucky that my brother loves you, and very lucky that I remember that, even now. Don't fucking push me, Hermione, or the memory might slip my mind one day. Stay the fuck away from my boyfriends."

She emphasized her words by pulling Hermione roughly forward and shoving her back into the wall. Stars sprang up in front of Hermione's vision, which wavered but stayed solid. Ginny obviously hadn't meant to knock her out, as she wasn't lying unconscious on the floor, and she hoped that that was a good sign. Ginny dropped her and another set of arms wrapped around her when two of the guards let Harry go. He cradled her to him, pale-faced and shaking, and she wondered if he'd thought she was going to die. She knew she had. She heard footsteps then, and the circle of guards closed around them, blocking their views, along with anyone's who tried to look in. The footsteps paused, and then continued at a much more hurried pace, while Draco and Blaise's musical, mocking laughter followed whoever it had been down the hall.

"My lords?" One of the hooded figures questioned, the voice letting them know it was a man.

"Yes?"

"We really must be going. The press outside grows worse by the minute, even at this hour." A different figure said, that one a woman.

"Alright." Draco replied simply, and as a whole, they turned and walked down the hall, leaving Harry and Hermione where they were.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sitting upon his throne, dark thoughts ran through his head. How had his plan been foiled again? The little brats were stronger than he'd thought, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. They might be powerful, but he was a Lord of the Dark. They were no match for him, even with their Elemental energy. He had a new idea, a better idea, one that couldn't fail. And he hated failure above all else. He waited silently when he heard scales slithering over stone, and watched impassively as a huge snake glided up to him, transforming into a beautiful, dark-haired woman.

"What news, my lord?" She asked, kneeling at his feet.

"What do you think?" He snapped, petting her head harshly, yet fondly. She was his most loyal servant, staying by his side even through the years that he had floated and pondered and plotted uselessly.

"What do you wish for me to do, my lord?" She asked, and he flicked his forked tongue over his thin lips.

"Watch. Wait. They want to play with me, and they'll soon see the consequences. I know something that even they can't be advanced enough to beat yet." He said, and she looked excited and anxious.

"Really? Ooooh, what is it, my lord? Will it be…bad?" She asked, her eyes filled with a strange sort of hope.

"Oh, yes. Yes, it will be. After all, a Deep Lord is not one to mess with." He said calmly, and she jumped.

"A-A Deep Lord, my lord?" She asked hesitantly. "But there will be a high-"

"Price? Yes, I know. But it will be worth it." He responded, and she hung her head.

"As you say, my lord."

"They are arrogant." He said thoughtfully. "Too arrogant. And they, as they won't find out until it is too late, are not the only Chosen walking this earth."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Please, please, pretty please review!


	11. Crepuscule

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

My lovely reviewers for the last chapter (mostly in reverse of the order in which they were received): To **tkmoore**, I bow to you, oh Queen of Reviewers! To **Alex Vossen**, thanks! I'm glad you like it! To **Kat Davi**, (snickers) Cheese sword! That's hilarious! To **Goddess Of the Fallen**, lol! I'm thrilled that you're satisfied! To **DracoGinevraBlaise!**, thanks! To **Danni is Divine, James is Mine**, thank you so much for the great review! I _thrive _on them! To **me**, thanks! To **Lillian-is-fickle**, thank you, you're awesome! To **kittie06**, never meant to drive you crazy! lol. To **Psi**, thanks, as usual! To **Iced Faerie**, hehehe! I hope so! To **xxbabysparklesxx**, cool. I'm all about freaking people out, lol. To **Erin**, thanks! To **resentment**, so can I add bringing back the dead to my list of oh-so-numerous talents? Lol. To **babykelyse**, hope this was soon enough! To **musiclover86**, no, thank _you_. To **a-sam**, hell, anyone would have flipped if they had half a brain! Lol. To **AmYzA**, cool. I'm glad you liked the other one too! To **power of the stars**, isn't it great? Twists Drama = One happy me! To **Jan**, I'm a pagan myself, so…Both. And no, in the true myths, Cocidius (to my knowledge) never fell. It was just part of my plot, not history. Thank you for reviewing! As usual, you're one of the best! To **angelfire33**, we can certainly hope for peace. If they'll actually get any though is something you'll have to wait and find out about! Okay, now to the story…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione desperately dug through her trunk, cursing as she made more of a mess than she ever had in her life. Half of its contents were already strewn around her room, draped over her bed, the lamp and the floor. Where were her damn gloves? She was going to be late, and she really didn't need that at the moment. The Quidditch game was starting soon, all of her Housemates were already gone, and she was supposed to be meeting Ginny by the gardens. After four days of avoiding her and three days of apologies, she had finally convinced Ginny to talk to her. She felt absolutely wretched, and she couldn't believe that she'd let herself gawk like that last Saturday.

The girl had just been forced to kill her brother, and instead of offering her comfort, Hermione had devoured her boyfriend with her eyes. _Very classy, Hermione, _she chastened herself once again. It had taken forever to work up her courage and approach Ginny afterwards, and when she had, the girl had sneered and walked away, Pansy, Melody and another Slytherin girl, Daphne, at her side. And then day before yesterday, she'd gotten her chance and cornered her after Charms, as it was the only time she'd seen her without at least two Slytherins shadowing her. She'd watched Ginny shoo them away since she'd stayed after to ask Flitwick a few questions, so Hermione had waited outside for her.

"Ginny?" She'd called when the red-haired girl had stepped out into the hallway. She'd turned slowly, contained grace in her every movement.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"To apologize. Again." Seeing the look on Ginny's face, she had hurried on. "I _really_ am sorry, Ginny. I couldn't help it. I promise, though, that I didn't mean anything by it. I'm not stupid." She'd said, keeping her voice as low and calm as she could. That _look_ had flashed in Ginny's eyes again, before it had faded and been replaced by an odd, calculating expression.

"Aren't you?" Ginny had asked so softly that Hermione had barely heard her. Then louder, "Perhaps I've been a bit…harsh."

"_What?_" Hermione had asked, not believing her ears.

"Look, how about you meet me before the Quidditch match on Sunday?" Ginny had questioned, though Hermione had known that to say no was to lose her only chance.

"Sure, but couldn't we talk now?" She'd asked, and had breathed a sigh of relief when the other girl had laughed.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny had exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "If I don't show up for Herbology, one of the Slytherins will run for Draco or Blaise. Or both." She had paused then, looking thoughtful. "Oh, wait. I forgot." She'd said, pulling a small, orange orb from her pocket. It was perfectly smooth, and it had reminded Hermione of the crystal balls used in Divination, because it had looked full of swirling mist.

"What's that?" She'd asked, her curiosity once more getting the better of her. And Ginny hadn't snapped at her as expected, but she hadn't really answered her, either.

"A present. It'll let them know I'm fine. You sure you really want to skip a class?" Ginny'd asked, the barest hint of animosity creeping into her husky voice.

"Yes." Hermione had replied, and watched silently as Ginny had tapped the orange sphere with her finger. It had flashed, and then flickered twice more, before returning to its previous state. Ginny had led her towards the dungeons, but hadn't taken her to the Slytherin common room as she had expected, instead going to an abandoned classroom.

"Why'd we come here?" She'd asked, looking around at the cobweb-covered walls and dusty cauldrons. Ginny's eyes had darkened, and Hermione had wished fervently that she'd just shut her mouth.

"I don't think taking you into Slytherin would be…wise." Ginny had finally responded. "If Blaise catches your scent in the common room before I get a chance to talk to him…Look, it's going to be bad enough when they smell you on me."

"But I haven't touched you!" Hermione had argued, her cheeks flushing. Ginny had only smirked, leaning up against one of the less dusty counters.

"So?" The other girl had questioned. "You think that makes any difference? They'll smell you. Trust me." Slightly taken aback, Hermione hadn't said anything for a minute.

"Look," she'd started slowly, breaking the silence, "I was completely out of line and-"

"Forget it, Hermione." Ginny had cut her off. "That night was…difficult, in more ways than one. Just don't do it again." She'd finished, her eyes narrowing.

"W-Wait." Hermione had stuttered. "You're just going to forgive me?"

"Sort of."

"But…But you wouldn't talk to me all week! I thought you hated me!" Hermione had burst out, a tear leaking down her cheek.

She truly was sorry; she and Ginny had been really good friends before this whole mess had started, and they had been almost as close as Ginny and Lauren had been. But those two had also grown apart, which made the whole world seem a little strange. It appeared that Lauren, who had been so adamant on keeping their friendship going after Ginny had gotten with Blaise and Draco, couldn't really deal with the whole 'Chosen' thing. It freaked her out more than she would admit, and she had begun acting strangely around Ginny. And Ginny, who was usually so perceptive, couldn't see what the real problem was.

But Hermione knew that Slytherins could, as their expressions had taken on an acidic quality around Lauren that they hadn't previously had, and they seemed to be trying to slowly draw Ginny away from the other girl, as if they wished to spare her the pain of the rejection that was bound to come eventually. The last article about Draco, Blaise and Ginny in the _Daily Prophet_ hadn't helped things, either. The day after the massacre in the two Slytherins' Alexandria office, the three of them had been featured on the front page of every paper, and it was like an echo of almost two years before, except that there were three gore-covered figures instead of two. The full story had yet to be released, but some pictures had leaked, and experts were trying to decide if they were fake or not, while the Ministry had yet to comment.

"I don't…_hate_ you." Ginny had replied. "No one would have taken that shit very kindly, Hermione. And I meant what I said. I don't mind hanging out with you again, but you make one-"

"I know." Hermione had supplied. "I won't. I promise."

Her words from that day echoed in her head as she finally found her gloves, and she pulled them on, grabbing her winter cloak on the way out. It had been snowing all day, and she wasn't looking forward to the trek across the grounds that they would soon be making. But if it meant she had her friend back, then so be it. She just wished that there was a way she could apologize to Draco and Blaise, too, but she knew that that was utterly suicidal in every way imaginable. Crawling through the portrait hole, she tried to dislodge her thoughts from that course and failed miserably, as usual. She had other problems besides her 'hormonal issues', as she had decided to call it.

Like if she blew this, what the hell were they going to do? Muttering under her breath as she sped down the stairs, she tried to think of ulterior options. They had to get more knowledge from somewhere, and their choices were limited. They didn't have the outside connections that the Slytherins seemed to possess, and the arrogant bastards were their only real chance at this point. Her muttering turned into curses as she slammed into someone's back. _Again_. She really was going to have to start watching where she was going more often. Her cheeks burning, she looked up, and then proceeded to wish for a swift death. _This is sooo just my luck_, she thought miserably.

"Sorry." She mumbled, not moving a single inch off the floor, trying to be as still and small as possible as inconceivably blue eyes glued her to the floor. She heard footsteps coming from behind her, and risked showing her back in order to see who it was, hoping against hope that Harry or Ron would walk around the corner.

It wasn't, of course, as they were already at the game, but it was nearly as good. Professor McGonagall froze when she saw them, her eyes narrowing to suspicious slits as she took in Hermione on the ground at Blaise Zabini's feet. Blaise, seeing what the woman was thinking, sneered viciously before mockingly offering Hermione a hand up, his eyes never leaving McGonagall. The Professor glanced at Hermione, arching an inquisitive eyebrow, and Hermione swallowed her fear, nodding that everything was all right. McGonagall threw a last, untrusting glance at Blaise, before spinning on a heel and leaving for the pitch. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, as he probably wouldn't murder her with there being a witness, and then scooted backwards away from him as fast and far as possible.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Blaise questioned softly, a queer glint in his eyes. "Scared you'll catch something if you touch me?" Startled at the suggestion, she couldn't answer at first. Finally clearing her throat, she looked back up at him.

"No. She'll smell me on you or something, isn't that right?" She asked, trying her damnedest not to let her fear cloak her words as much as it was cloaking her thoughts. "Something about her changed when the three of you were Marked. I know that much. She sure as hell wasn't informing me that I smelt like _dinner_ before that, at any rate."

"Don't worry, little mudblood. Should Virginia ever choose to feed, she has better blood than yours to feast upon." He said, his hooded eyes beginning to really, truly scare her. Wishing that she hadn't sent McGonagall away after all, she slid farther back, almost screaming as he disappeared and reappeared right next to her.

She knew that he hadn't Apparated, only moved much too fast for her eyes to follow. Panic began seeping in, as the realization hit her that he could have just as easily snapped her neck right then. Whimpering, she recoiled as he crouched next to her with the easy grace of a panther. Purple-streaked cerulean eyes bored into her through thick, silky locks of raven hair, and she couldn't seem to tear her own eyes away. She wasn't quite sure what had happened, wasn't quite sure just which moment had turned this from a hostile meeting on the stairway into a situation where she was more scared than she'd ever been in her life. And he hadn't even really _done _anything yet.

"Or is that the problem?" He asked bare moments later, but it had felt like an eternity to her and she had to fight to remember what he'd said last. When she did, her eyes widened and she felt the blood rushing to her face once again.

"W-What do you m-mean?" She asked, and he smirked cruelly.

"I mean I think you're a freak underneath your little Miss-Perfect charade. Poor little mudblooded Gryffindor, stuck with all the norms in your pathetic tower. I think you wear as many masks as we do, except you hide yours even from yourself. I think you dream of fangs in your flesh and blood on your tongue. And I think that you'd better not fuck my girlfriend over." Blaise drawled, his velvety voice underlain with darkness and just a hint of madness. She couldn't decide which sent more chills down her spine.

"I wouldn't do that." Hermione said, moving back the last few inches until her back hit the wall, and the small edge of the alcove twisted the light, covering Blaise in shifting shadows.

"Don't profess your idiotic Gryffindor loyalty to me, Granger. Do you really think I'll believe you just because you claim otherwise?"

"No. I don't suppose you would." She mumbled, knowing he would hear her.

"Don't hurt her. That's all. Oh, and keep your perverted fucking fantasies to yourself. You almost gave Draco a bloody heart attack the other night. He wouldn't talk for hours, and he freaked when he couldn't Obliviate the memory of your lustful little stare." He commented flippantly, his words reeking of truth, and it made her chest constrict painfully. Mortified and strangely aching inside, all she wished for at that point was for anyone, even Ginny, to come up the stairs and see them in the alcove. But the castle was empty; she knew that much. Remembering the match, she choked.

"Hey, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be playing!" She exclaimed, her surprise lending her courage. He sneered.

"You're quite the fool sometimes, aren't you, mudblood?" He asked, standing and gesturing to himself with one elegant hand. He was wearing his Quidditch robes and pads, and she wondered how in the hell she hadn't noticed that before. She ripped her eyes away, cursing herself silently for still finding him so attractive, and got shakily to her feet.

"But the game's already started." She stated lamely, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes it _has_. We decided it would be best if we only played with _two_ Chasers. You know, to liven things up a bit." He said sarcastically, looking at her as if she were some grotesque new form of pond scum. "_Honestly_. Hooch forgot the Quidditch balls in the Game Room."

"Then what are you doing all the way up here?" She asked unthinkingly, and he just stared at her. She looked around, uncomfortable, and noticed that they weren't very high up. In fact, they were only on the second floor. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _"Nevermind. I have to go." She said, trying to bolt away before he could say anything. A hand yanked her backwards and she nearly fell, barely catching herself on the wall.

"I don't think so, little mudblood." Blaise crooned. "I don't lie to my loved ones, see. And she'll smell you on me as quick as she will the other way around. But _I'm_ not the one who was about to be face to face with her. Are you _completely _stupid?"

"What do you care?" She questioned harshly, stepping away since he'd released her almost immediately, wiping his hand off on his robes. "You hate me, remember?"

"I don't _hate_ you." He said, and she knew her jaw must have hit the floor. When Ginny had said that, she was surprised. But _Blaise _saying it was tantamount to a miracle.

"_Excuse me?_"

"I don't hate you." He repeated, beginning to walk down the last flight of steps and towards the doors that led outside. "I dislike you, but not with any real intensity, since you're so easily ignored. Now, come on. I _do _have a game to play, after all." He continued nonchalantly, and she wondered why it suddenly felt so hard to breathe. She should have known it would be something like that, she shouldn't have hoped for a second that…

"What's going on?" Ginny's voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked up from where she was trailing behind Blaise to meet Ginny's burning eyes.

"Your…_friend_ ran into me on the stairs." Blaise replied, and her disturbing eyes flashed to him, cooling a bit. "I offered to escort her to where you were waiting." Ginny cocked an eyebrow in amusement, and Hermione relaxed fractionally.

"I seriously doubt that." Ginny said, fighting to keep a smile off her face as Blaise leaned in and kissed her on the corner of her mouth.

"You know me, ma âme." He replied, tucking a strand of fiery hair behind one of her delicate ears. "But I have to go. You'll be in the stands soon?"

"Of course." Ginny said. "And you _did_ get what you came for, right?" She asked, and he smirked, patting a pocket.

"Oui. Reducing spells are quite convenient. Je t'aime." He said, laughing as he slid out of one of the doors and disappeared. ((Yes.)) ((I love you.))

"Je t'aime aussi." Ginny whispered after him, before turning to Hermione. ((I love you too.))

"I didn't mean to, I-"

"Hermione!" Ginny huffed. "Really, just calm down. He said you bumped into him on the stairs, didn't he? I doubt he would have been as calm had it not been an accident." Hermione nodded, unable to do anything else for the moment. _Calm?_ If that was 'calm', then she sincerely never wanted Blaise Zabini enraged with her. But she'd known that for quite some time already.

"There you are!" A female voice called from their right once they were halfway to the pitch. Melody, Daphne and Pansy caught up with them quickly, shaking snowflakes from their hair since the downfall had stopped for a bit.

"We were looking for you." Pansy told Ginny when their groups joined, and the girl was dressed in Quidditch robes, much as Blaise had been. The Slytherins scrunched their noses when they saw Hermione with her, but said nothing for the moment, opting to talk to Ginny instead.

"I thought you guys already went to the pitch?" Ginny asked, flicking the snow on her shoulder at Pansy. It hit the Slytherin on the side of the face, and Hermione watched in fascination as Pansy simply laughed and shot a playful glare at the redheaded girl. _Holy shit, _Hermione thought to herself. _I don't think they were lying. They really are friends. _She couldn't help but notice the easy, natural symmetry between the four girls. They almost walked in sync, for the love of Merlin. It looked as if they'd been friends their entire lives, not just a little more than two months.

"We did." Melody replied. "But it's going to take even longer before the game starts now, so Pansy asked Draco if we could come find you real quick." She said, and her words became tinted with anger. Ginny's head snapped around.

"Why is it going to take longer?" She asked suspiciously. Melody looked away.

"You probably don't want to know." The girl said, flipping her wavy brown hair out of one eye where it had fallen. Ginny growled and turned to Pansy, who actually squirmed a bit.

"Well, see…someone objected to Madam Hooch sending Blaise for the game balls. Said that he would jinx them so that Slytherin would win." Pansy said, her own voice growing angry. Ginny's eyes went blank and Hermione shivered.

"Who objected?" Ginny asked quietly, and the Slytherins exchanged wary glances.

"Okay, we'll tell you." Daphne said cautiously after Ginny snarled. "But you have to promise to stay…coolheaded." She smirked and Ginny glared, a little light coming back into her eyes.

"Fine. And I'm _perfectly_ calm, thank you very much." Ginny said sourly, sticking her tongue out at them childishly. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Sure." She said dryly. "And I'm the Queen of Aruba."

"The Queen of _Annoyance_, more like." Ginny replied. "Now who was it? Ron?" When her friends nodded, Hermione felt like pulling her hair out. How _could_ he? He knew she was meeting with his sister, he knew how much being decent to the Slytherins meant at the moment, but he apparently didn't care.

"Yeah. So now, they're having Dumbledore check them out. We should get back just in time." Melody said, and Hermione marveled over how quickly Blaise must have made it back to the pitch.

They were almost there, the stands looming above them a short way ahead, and the roar of the crowd was growing louder with every step. They went under the arch a few minutes later, and headed toward the Slytherin stands, Pansy separating from them and jogging back onto the pitch. Part of the agreement had been that Hermione would sit with the Slytherins, which had actually been her idea. She wanted to do things right; if that meant toughing out a silly Quidditch match with the Slytherins, then it would just have to be done, no matter how much she dreaded it. She didn't even want to even _think_ about what her Housemates were going to say, though, let alone what the rest of the school would think, especially as her House was the opposing team that day.

"Are you coming or what, Hermione?" Ginny called from ten or fifteen steps up the stairs that led up into the stands, and she hurried to catch up.

The two remaining Slytherins' looks were scorching, and she drew herself up straighter under their loathing scrutiny. When they reached the section of bleachers decorated in silver, green and black, Ginny and the two Slytherin girls headed straight up to the prime seats. The other Slytherins all gawked at her for a moment; it was as if they couldn't believe that she was really on their side of the pitch. She ignored their scathing looks as best she could, and took a seat in between Ginny and Anton, who glared at her before kissing the others' cheeks. Daphne sat on Ginny's other side, and Melody sat by Anton.

"Look," Anton said. "They're almost done." He pointed down at the pitch, and she turned to see both teams, Slytherin and Gryffindor, grounded on the snow.

They were standing next to Dumbledore and Madam Hooch, who had her arms crossed and looked furious, even from so far away. Pulling out her Omniocuclars, Hermione figured she might as well pay attention to this game, since she was going to be in deep shit because of it afterwards. The figures came into sharp focus, and she saw Harry and Ron glaring at someone. Having a good feeling she knew who, she glanced over. Sure enough, Draco and Blaise were standing across from them, talking idly and leaning against their top-of-the-line broomsticks. Even Harry hadn't gotten a Firebolt Infinity yet, which she knew was a sore spot with him.

"I think Dumbledore's done." Ginny said, leaning forward eagerly, her eyes shining again. Sure enough, Dumbledore quit waving his wand over the balls and declared them fit for play, announcing that no one had tampered with them, which had smug grins appearing on the Slytherins' faces.

The team captains stepped forward, and Draco looked absolutely disgusted as he shook hands with Ron, a small, confident smirk on his frosty lips. The whistle blew and the teams shot into the air, as did the balls. The Snitch disappeared almost immediately, and Draco and Harry surfaced above the other players, circling a good twenty or thirty yards over their heads. Ron zoomed over to the Gryffindor goals, and the Slytherin Keeper, Dimitri, did the same. The Gryffindor Beaters, Benjamin and Luke, went after the Bludgers, but were a second behind the Slytherin Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle, who were actually surprisingly agile in the air, as the Gryffindor team had found out the hard way the year before.

"Yes!" Melody exclaimed, and Hermione followed her line of sight. The Gryffindor Chasers, Colin, Ryan and Lavender, had also been a second too late, as Pansy snatched up the Quaffle and darted down the field, a green and silver blur. She passed to Blaise, who looped over Luke and passed to the other Slytherin Chaser, Sebastian, who scored. The Slytherin stands erupted in cheers, the people all around her jumping to their feet. Her heart sinking at their early score, she listened intently to Casey Dorndee, who was the new announcer.

"AND SLYTHERIN SCORES! LAVENDER IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE NOW, SHE ZIPS AROUND SEBASTIAN-" Hermione laughed at the groans rising from assorted students. The one thing Casey had changed about the announcements was that he refused to call the players by their last names, even the Slytherins. "OH NO! FOUL! _ANYONE_ COULD SEE THAT WAS A FOUL, BLAISE NEARLY KNOCKED RYAN FROM HIS BROOM!" There was a pause as they waited to see if Hooch would call it, but she waved them on, rolling her eyes. Even Hermione had a hard time seeing what had just happened as a foul, considering she'd seen much worse before and more than likely would again before the end of the game. _Barbaric, _she thought once more.

"Damn right!" Melody shouted, her cool, quiet demeanor gone in face of the game. It was always like that, be it Slytherins or Gryffindors. Everyone lost their bloody minds over the sport, and she just couldn't fathom why.

"He barely touched him!" Ginny agreed, her eyes wild and excited.

"NO FOUL, APPARENTLY, AND BLAISE HAS THE QUAFFLE – HE PASSES TO SEBASTIAN, WHO PASSES TO PANSY – OH, ALMOST COLIN! THAT WAS A NEAR MISS BY GRYFFINDOR'S CHASER, AND PANSY TAKES OFF DOWN THE PITCH AGAIN - THE SLYTHERINS ARE FLYING IN A TIGHT 'V' FORMATION AND THE BLUDGERS CAN'T SEEM TO REACH HER – SHE PASSES TO SEBASTIAN, WHO DODGES LAVENDER AND LUKE – WHOA! THAT WAS A FANCY BIT OF FLYING BY SLYTHERIN'S CHASERS, AND BLAISE NOW HAS THE QUAF – OH GODS!!" Casey exclaimed as both Bludgers whizzed straight at Blaise's head, missing his face by bare inches as he threw himself backwards and flipped onto Pansy's broom. The Bludgers hit the broom he'd just been on a second later, shattering the wood and slamming into each other with a loud 'CRACK'.

The stands grew quiet as the broom fell in broken pieces to the ground, and Pansy's eyes were wide and shocked, as were most everyone else's. It had happened so fast that they'd barely seen it. The teams headed for the ground, and Draco nearly tackled Blaise when they landed, knocking the Quaffle from his hand and checking him for injuries before starting to curse. She couldn't _hear _him doing it, as the teams were too far down, but she could tell that he was by the look of absolute murder on his face. He spun towards Crabbe and Goyle, and they slunk backwards, waving their arms emphatically. Madam Hooch was also yelling, holding part of the broken broom in her hand and waving it threateningly at Gryffindor's Beaters.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Anton hissed. "They nearly took off his fucking head!" Hermione silently agreed, her point about the stupid 'sport' being proven once again. The figures on the ground seemed to have erupted into a full-blown shouting match, before Hooch blew her whistle again and turned to Blaise, asking him something.

He nodded and Draco threw his hands up, his expression utterly furious. Blaise said something to him and he shook his head, as did the rest of the Slytherin team. But Blaise ignored them and turned back to Hooch, who nodded and took out her wand. A broom came flying across the field moments later from the Slytherin locker rooms, and Hermione recognized it as another Firebolt Infinity. Blaise grabbed it out of the air and Draco seemed to give up, turning on the Gryffindors and snarling at them instead. His mouth moved rapidly, forming what she was almost positive was an insult, and the Gryffindor Beaters moved towards him, swinging their clubs threateningly. Draco laughed and swatted Benjamin's club out of his hand as if it were a toy stick.

"Shit." Ginny whispered, clutching her forearm distractedly. "He's _pissed_." Luke's club followed Benjamin's a moment later, before Hooch stepped between them. Short, hurried words followed, before Draco spun on a heel, his next words loud enough to drift up the stands.

"Fine! Fuck it then! They want a dirty game, then they'll get a goddamn dirty game!" He motioned to his team and they responded instantly, mounting their brooms once again. Blaise was watching Draco warily, but the whistle blew and his attention went back to the match.

"ALRIGHT, SLYTHERIN HAS BEEN AWARDED THREE PENALTY SHOTS, AND IT SEEMS BLAISE WILL BE SHOOTING THEM – THERE HE GOES, WATCH THAT LEFT HOOP, RON! BLAISE SWERVES, SHOOTS AND – SLYTHERIN SCORES!" Cheers rose again, mostly from the Slytherins, but quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws cheered as well.

"They're soooo dead!" Daphne yelled happily, her cheeks flushed from excitement and the frigid wind. Blaise retrieved the Quaffle again, and Casey's voice once more rang out.

"BLAISE WITH THE QUAFFLE AGAIN, HE'S ADVANCING ON THE GOALS AWFULLY FAST – HE SHOOTS AGAIN AND – SLYTHERIN SCORES! THE QUAFFLE GOES BACK TO BLAISE AS HE RETURNS TO CENTERFIELD, AND RON LOOKS MORE WARY THIS TIME AROUND – BLAISE MOVES IN – BLOODY HELL! THAT WAS- SORRY, PROFESSOR, WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN – BUT THAT WAS _INSANE_! SLYTHERIN SCORES AGAIN!"

Hermione's lungs felt as if they'd jumped into her throat. Blaise had moved for the goals quickly again, taking the same path as before. But right as he'd gotten close enough to shoot, he'd swatted the Quaffle to the left with the tail of his broom, zipped underneath Ron, stood in one smooth movement on his broom handle, and practically snatched the ball right out of Ron's hands a second before Ron would have caught it. Spinning, and still balanced on his broomstick, Blaise had thrown the Quaffle through the hoop right behind them and slid easily back into a sitting position. Ron looked confused, then furious, swinging at Blaise in mid-air. Blaise flew away, laughing, before chasing after the Quaffle again. Regular game play picked back up, and Gryffindor managed to score a few minutes later, which caused Hermione to breathe a short-lived sigh of relief. Short-lived because of what happened after Draco gave his team a series of hand signals.

"LAVENDER WITH THE QUAFFLE, SHE'S ZEROING IN ON THE SLYTHERIN HOOPS, HOPE SHE CAN GET IT PAST DIMITRI – OH! PANSY BLOCKS HER, LOOKS LIKE SHE BUSTED HER NOSE TOO, AND SEBASTIAN GETS THE QUAFFLE! COLIN'S MOVING IN – COME ON, YOU CAN DO IT! SH – COLIN GETS WAYLAID BY A BLUDGER FROM GREGORY AND GOES INTO A BARREL ROLL – SEBASTIAN PASSES TO PANSY, AND – OUCH! RYAN GETS KICKED IN THE FACE AS HE TRIES TO DELAY HER AND SHE SHOOTS – SLYTHERIN SCORES! 50-10 IN FAVOR OF THE SNAKES!" The Slytherins were apparently amused, and their cheers turned into hisses. She supposed they meant it good-naturedly, but it sent creeping tingles down her spine.

"Your team isn't doing so well." Anton commented dryly, and Hermione started when she realized that he was talking to her.

"We'll see." She muttered, turning her attention back to the game. The next twenty minutes were absolutely brutal, and Madam Hooch gave up on calling the more minor fouls.

She'd never seen the Slytherin team, or any team for that matter, play so very viciously. After another ten minutes, she had to agree with Anton. Gryffindor was being flattened, scoring only one more goal. The Slytherins were almost literally wiping the field with them, and even the two Seekers were drawn into it. Well, more like _Harry_ was drawn into it, anyway. Draco had been whacking Bludgers with his broomstick and knocking players around since the game had first turned nasty. But as she watched, she noticed one thing that was a bit surprising. The Slytherins weren't cheating. They were fouling people left and right, but they hadn't broken any of the staple rules, which they usually did at least once or twice during a game just to prove that they could.

"Someone's going to get really hurt." She said to no one in particular. Ginny turned toward her, those excited eyes still shining.

"Probably." She agreed, her attention going back to the game as Blaise snatched the Quaffle from Lavender.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Melody breathed, her mouth slightly open and her breath coming fast, fogging around her pretty face. "It's just so beautiful when they play this way." Startled, Hermione turned to look at the girl.

"I've never seen a game like this one before." She said, and Melody glanced at her briefly.

"Figures." The girl scoffed. "Yeah, well, this is the way _real_ Quidditch is played. Except we usually don't bother with rules at all."

"What?" Hermione asked, slightly horrified. The sport was dangerous enough on its own, but to strip the rules away was sheer lunacy.

"It's better that way." Melody replied, her eyes following the players. "Ooooh, I think Blaise just broke Ryan's finger. Anyway, it's the way the team always practices, and the way we all play out of school. It just makes it so much more _interesting_." Deciding the girl was slightly more mad then she'd originally assumed, Hermione turned back to the game.

"LOOKS LIKE RYAN'S FINGER IS ALL PATCHED UP, AND HE SHOOTS INTO THE AIR AGAIN, HOT ON SEBASTIAN'S TRAIL – BLAISE NARROWLY MISSES ANOTHER BLUDGER, WHICH HITS COLIN DEAD ON, AND THERE GOES PANSY! SHE HAS THE QUAFFLE AND SHE'S CLOSING – SHE PASSES BACK TO SEBASTIAN, WHO SHOOTS AND – IT'S BLOCKED BY RON! HAH! THE SCORE REMAINS 90-20, STILL IN SLYTHERIN'S FAVOR, THOUGH, AND WHAT A SHAME THAT IS…SORRY, PROFESSOR! OKAY, BLAISE WITH THE QUAFFLE, HEADING STRAIGHT DOWN THE CENTER, LOOK AT HIM FLY! THAT'S A FIREBOLT INFINITY FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE BLIND, ONE OF THE TOP BROOMS IN THE WORLD, IT CAN DO OVER – SORRY, PROFESSOR. BLAISE APPROACHES THE GOALS BUT CIRCLES AROUND, PASSES TO PANSY, WHO PASSES IT BACK - AND SLYTHERIN SCORES!"

"This is bad." Hermione moaned quietly, putting her head in her hands. 100-20?

If Draco ended up with the Snitch, it was going to be a very unpleasant night in Gryffindor Tower. And their sure-proof plan of letting Harry take care of it wasn't so sure-proof anymore. Draco had gotten the snitch in the last Gryffindor-Slytherin match last year, and again in the first one this year. He had always been an excellent flyer, leagues above the other Seekers except for Harry, but then it had changed. For Draco, it had seemed as if it had stopped being about the on-going competition between him and Harry and just been about the game, like it had always been in all of his other matches. With that added tension gone, he'd won both following games for his team, getting the snitch right from underneath Harry's nose.

"OI, WHAT IS THIS? WHAT ON EARTH IS SLYTHERIN'S SEEKER DOING??" Casey's voice questioned, and Hermione felt her toes go numb with foreboding.

Searching the air, she saw nothing, nothing, and then she looked straight up. A silver and green blur was streaking from almost a hundred feet above the people in the highest part of the stands, racing for the ground at a breakneck speed. _There's no way he'll be able to stop, _she thought frantically, barely aware of Ginny leaping to her feet. Harry, who was on the other side of the pitch, saw Draco and shot off towards him, apparently trying to intercept the Slytherin's descent. The remaining members of the two teams had frozen, watching stunned as Draco pelted straight for the ground, Harry on his heels. She saw it then, the barest glimmer of gold among the trampled snow, less than three inches from the ground.

There wasn't a chance that he could get the ball while going so fast and not crash horribly, and she wondered just what in the hell he was thinking. Seconds later, she found out. They approached the ground at a nauseating speed, and Harry must have realized that Draco had lost his mind, because he pulled up and away at the last second. Which was, apparently, just what Draco had intended, as he pulled up half a second later, his foot flashing out and kicking the Snitch into the air in front of him. Never slowing, he took off after it as it zoomed away, leaving the watching spectators gaping. He sped right over the snow, as he'd barely been another half a second from impact when he'd straightened out, and he stretched his arm forward for the Snitch.

His fingers brushed the golden ball just as something flew out of the Gryffindor stands, hitting him on the shoulder and neck with a sickening 'CRACK' that sounded way too much like the sound Blaise's broom had made earlier. Ginny gave a choked scream, grabbing her shoulder and nearly falling over, but Hermione couldn't look away as Draco swerved jaggedly, somehow managed to straighten his broom out, and took back off after the golden ball. Teachers were already making their way into the stands, but she could have cared less. This was it. The only part of Quidditch that she'd ever found exciting. The capture of the Golden Snitch.

The flying object had slowed Draco down enough that Harry had caught up to him again, and they were once more neck-and-neck as they sped closer and closer to the Snitch. The little ball darted upwards suddenly and they followed it easily, rising and rising until they'd almost reached the top of the stands again. She saw Harry kick out at Draco and had a moment of surprise, since Harry never did that kind of thing, but Draco dodged it smoothly and ignored him, his mercury eyes locked onto his current prey. The ball darted right over the Ravenclaws' heads, and the Seekers followed, causing the students to shriek as they zoomed over them.

The ball turned, curved, and raced over the remaining Ravenclaws into the Slytherin stands. Harry kicked out at Draco again, which had the Slytherins hissing angrily, but Draco feinted and went slightly to the left. The ball was racing straight for one of the concrete stand dividers, and they only had moments to make a decision before they would hit. Watching them with wide, terrified eyes, Hermione ducked as they zipped less than a foot over her head. The ball was right at the divider then, and it seemed that both Harry and Draco were determined to get it, no matter what. She sucked in a breath as the ball went into reverse suddenly, turning and heading back out over the field.

Draco saw it and spun, lightning quick, slamming into Harry and using the other boy's body as a cushion against the rough stone. Instead of trying to catch his broom as it fell, Draco used his feet to push against the wall and leaped to the side, his hand closing around the Snitch in mid-air. She screamed, along with quite a few others, as he plummeted to the ground, the golden ball still clenched tightly in his fist. She saw Melody, Anton, Daphne and quite a few other Slytherins forcibly restraining Ginny, who had been a hair's breadth from jumping over the side after him. He seemed to fall forever, and she felt tears rising in her throat.

A black and green blur shot underneath him out of nowhere, and she could breathe again as she saw Draco safely on Blaise's broom. Their long braids, silver and black, twisted around each other as Blaise dove for the ground, Draco facing him on the broom and his arms tightly around the other's waist. There were a few more moments of silence, before the entire stadium erupted. They'd never seen anything like_ that_ before. The Slytherins, over their panic, were ecstatic, and Hermione knelt by Harry, who had crumpled at the base of the divider he and Draco had hit. He was two or three feet from the ledge, and he seemed dazed.

"He got it again, didn't he?" Harry asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper. She nodded hesitantly, right as Ginny snatched up Draco's fallen broom, which had landed next to Harry's in the aisle.

"Gotta go!" The redhead said brightly, before diving over the railing without a backwards glance. The other Slytherins followed her after pulling shrunken brooms from their pockets, and soon the Slytherin stands were completely empty but for her and Harry. The Gryffindor team was flying towards them slowly, and stopped ten or fifteen yards from where they were, looking at the green and silver stands with blatant distrust.

"He's fine!" She called to them, but they just glared at her. Which was expected, but she had hoped they would at least wait until they were back in their dormitory. Ron looked at her apologetically, as he knew why she'd been sitting there, and she gave him a weak grin before facing Harry again. "Harry, tell them you're all right."

"I'm fine!" Harry called to them before couching and getting to his feet. He scooped up his Firebolt and mounted it, looking at her inquisitively. She didn't like brooms very much, but she wanted to make sure that he went to the Hospital Wing, just to check and be positive that he was really okay. Swallowing her nervousness, she got on in front of him and felt his arms wrap around her before his hands grabbed the broom. He was shaking, and she knew that he was upset about losing another game to Slytherin. They made it to the ground in a fairly short amount of time, landing outside the Gryffindor locker rooms.

"It's alright, mate." Ron said as he joined them. "I didn't do so fabulous myself. Bloody Slytherins." He spat, glaring at the sea of green, silver and black-clad students that had surrounded their team, cheering and laughing as they congratulated their players. A shower of green sparks exploded over their heads like fireworks, and Hermione saw Ginny with her hands raised right before another blast came from them, this time in silver. Ron mumbled something threatening about House traitors, and Hermione only shook her head. Ginny had never really been a Gryffindor, not like the rest of them. If she had found happiness in the tight, secretive embrace of Slytherin, then so be it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia took a few running steps and dove over the ledge, her spirit the lightest it had been in a while. That had been simply _amazing_. Heart stopping and terror inducing, yes, but also amazing. She still couldn't believe what she'd just seen. She knew her boyfriends were good at Quidditch, but they had played that game with a razor-edged skill and finesse that had been breathtaking. That last, sideways leap off the wall that Draco had done had scared the shit out of her until she'd seen Blaise catch him, but overall she hadn't worried for their safety too much. Well, except for the Bludger incident with Blaise, and whatever had hit Draco. But you had to expect things like that in Quidditch.

Fighting against the force of the wind, she pulled Draco's broom underneath her and continued her dive for the pitch, before landing lightly on her feet in the snow and springing off his broom. Looking up, she saw that the others were also jumping off with their brooms, before she ran for Draco and Blaise, who were surrounded by their exuberant teammates. Their eyes were lit up, the frenzy and passion of the game infusing them to their very bones, and she felt a wave of anger toward her brother. She loved Quidditch and was damn good at it, but he had refused to let her join the House team. And since he'd made captain, she hadn't been able to do anything about it.

And now she couldn't, as she didn't want to play against her friends. And if she was honest, she knew that she wouldn't be able to bring herself to play for Gryffindor now, anyway. What she really wanted was to play for Slytherin, as just the thought made her tingly, but she knew that it would never happen. She'd never heard of switching Houses before, and didn't feel like being told that she couldn't. It was enough that the Slytherins had accepted and befriended her. She didn't need Quidditch, damn it. Draco and Blaise saw her and pushed out of the circle they were in, pulling her to them and kissing her hungrily. She responded in kind, ravishing chilled and charged lips alike.

"You were both _awesome_." She said after they broke apart, and genuine smiles graced their features.

"Yes, we _were_ quite brilliant, weren't we?" Blaise asked, pretending to look thoughtful as the other Slytherins landed and rushed them.

They were surrounded by their friends, who were all chattering excitedly and grinning from ear to ear. It was rare to see any of them so happy, let alone _all_ of them, and Virginia's spirits rose even more. Throwing her hands up, she released a torrent of green, fiery sparks that exploded over their heads, falling on them harmlessly and tickling their exposed skin. The Slytherins cheered again and she sent up a burst of silver as the green faded, giggling when a spark landed on Pansy's nose and made the girl sneeze. Draco picked Virginia up and spun her around in circles, snow flying around them, and her laughter rolled from her in tinkling waves. They stumbled and fell, Blaise catching them before they hit the snow, so they dragged him down with them.

"Traitors!" He hissed, throwing snow at them. They looked at each other, smirked, and tackled him simultaneously. The other Slytherins around them were getting into their own small snow wars, and she shrieked when Blaise stuffed a handful of snow down her robes. She and Draco flipped him over, tossing fistfuls of snow at the same time, and he rolled away into a crouching position. "Is this any way to thank the person that just saved your miserable life?" He asked Draco, who stuck out his blue-tinted tongue and waved a hand, causing a small wall of snow to hit Blaise.

"Run!" Virginia yelled as she saw the look that formed in her boyfriend's eyes, and she grabbed Draco's sleeve, pulling him with her. They narrowly missed a huge column of snow, and she was laughing so hard she could barely take another step. Knowing the freezing fate that awaited them should they stop, she forced herself to continue forward, dodging a few Ravenclaws that were in their way.

"Shit!" Draco said right before something slammed into them from behind, and they went down in a flurry of limbs and flying snow.

"Hah!" Blaise said triumphantly from above them. "You thought you could run, did you?" She didn't answer, just flipped over and flung more snow at Blaise, who was looming over them. It hit his chest, and he grinned before pushing her back down. Another wad of snow hit the side of his face, immediately followed by Draco's musical laughter, and Blaise spun, leaping on top of him. They flipped over and she quickly got to her feet as their positions reversed. Not pausing, she launched herself at Draco, knocking him off Blaise and back into the snow.

"How could you?" He wailed in mock betrayal, but her lips descended on his and he quickly grew quiet. She pulled back just as swiftly, shoving a handful of snow in his face and snickering.

"Works every time. Men are so _easy_." She taunted, seconds before she found herself once more on her back in the wet slush covering the ground. They both were leaning over her, their eyes sparking playfully, before Draco leaned down and purred in her ear.

"You want easy, ma chou? We'll show you easy." His mouth covered hers, rational thought fleeing, and she couldn't have cared less that there were only about four hundred sets of eyes on them. Blaise's mouth soon replaced his, and she couldn't help a small moan escaping her. They pulled back, looking victorious until she tossed more snow in their faces. She used every bit of speed she possessed to scoot from underneath them, getting back to her feet and running for Pansy. She knew they were right behind her, so when she was almost there, she threw herself forward and rolled, missing their outstretched hands by a split second.

"You guys have _serious _problems." Pansy's amused voice said from above her, and she straightened, trying to look dignified.

"We do not." She replied haughtily, trying her damnedest not to laugh again, and turned to her boyfriends, who had frozen and looked disappointed. An evil smirk graced her lips, and she pointed at Pansy. Their eyes lit up again right as Pansy started shaking her head and backing away, and a moment later, the other girl was in the snow. She spit curses at her two Housemates as they shoveled the wet, melting ice on her, and Virginia couldn't hold back anymore. Laughter once again spilled from her, tears running down her cheeks as her side began aching. That was when the first real scream split the air.

"What the fuck?" Anton said, looking around.

Draco and Blaise were off of Pansy in seconds, helping her to her feet before rejoining Ginny. Another scream echoed the first, and they turned to face the far side of the pitch, where the sun was setting, twilight having crept up on them, and what they saw had more people screaming, while sending her instincts into overdrive. A huge figure made of fire and shadow was rising up through the ground, just outside the castle's wards. It kept coming and coming, until it stood well over forty feet tall. A long, nasty looking whip was clutched in one of its enormous fists, and it had a wide head with slit red eyes. It was flashing different colors randomly, and the distant feeling of pain and eternal suffering seemed to choke them, even while it was still outside the shields.

Draco and Blaise stepped in front of her immediately as the thing began moving towards the pitch. It stopped suddenly and the usually invisible wards seemed to appear out of nowhere, glowing a bright, yellowish-white. The creature hissed, ran its eyes over the surface of the outer shield, before raising a massive fist and slamming it into the yellow wall of power. The shield wavered but stayed up, and the thing continued its assault. She knew in her core that it would make it through, knew beyond a doubt that even Hogwarts' wards couldn't stand up to _that _thing. People were fleeing towards the castle, but weren't making very good progress, as they were panicking and trying to trample each other.

Most were still stuck on the field, as they'd jammed the archway, and she saw Dumbledore and the other Professors trying to calm them down and get them to safety, all the while keeping an eye on the creature. She couldn't see her brother anywhere, or Harry and Hermione, but the Slytherins were all still behind them. Not one had run, not even the first years, though she was pretty sure that they had a better idea then she did about what they were facing. Their eyes were glued on Draco, Blaise, and, surprisingly, _her_. Closing her own eyes as the pounding of the creature continued, she took a deep, steadying breath before facing her boyfriends again.

"How do we fight it?" She asked, and they stared at her.

"_We_ aren't fighting it. _You're_ taking the Slytherins and getting to the castle." Draco finally said, Blaise nodding along with him, and she bristled.

"I most certainly am _not_!" She exclaimed, a familiar, delicious burn beginning inside of her, signaling that her power was growing.

"Yes, you _are_!" Blaise argued, his eyes beginning to spark. "You can't fight this!"

"And _you_ can?" She countered, not really meaning it. So when she saw the flicker of doubt cross their faces before disappearing instantly, she almost fainted. _Oh gods. What the fuck is that thing, then?_

"Yes." Draco snapped. "We can. And if we can't beat it, at least you'll be safe."

"Regardless, you can't stop me!" She said hotly as her skin began to glow, responding to her fear and anger. "I'll be damned before I run away and leave you two to face something like _that_ alone!"

"Do you think we would even bother trying to stop it if you and the other Slytherins weren't here? The whole reason we're doing this is to keep you alive and well!" Blaise tried to reason, but she shook her head.

"Don't you get it?" She nearly screamed. "If you die, _I_ die! It matters not whether it happens beside you or after I hear about it, I will wither and fade either way! Would you have me die alone, then? Grieving for the two of you after you'd forced me to leave you to your deaths? Would you leave that guilt and agony on my soul?" They flinched and took a step backwards, a war going on behind their eyes. Then they seemed to crumble, and she resented her harsh words. But they'd been necessary. She knew no other way to convince them to let her stay.

"Fine." Blaise intoned, his voice sounding distant. "If you refuse to let us protect you, then why should we even stay? We could be gone in moments, and leave them to their fate. Dumbledore can do nothing about _this_."

"And why is that?"

"Do you not know what it is that seeks entrance?" Draco asked, having to almost shout to be heard over the pounding, which kept getting louder and louder.

"No." She replied shortly. She knew that it was probably some sort of demon, but that was it. "And I don't particularly care as long as you know how to kill it. Now, will you let me help you?" She asked, and they said nothing. She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around their waists, leaning in to speak next to their keen ears. "_Please_. Do not make me walk away and leave you to this. _I love you_; I cannot sit idly by and do nothing as your blood spills. Switch our places and tell me truthfully: Would you demand any different if you were me?"

"No." They whispered after a few moments, and their voices were lost, only the movement of their lips giving her an answer. They squeezed her to them almost desperately, laying kissing all over her face and sending her their love through their Marks. She returned it, before a mighty 'BOOM' shook the very air around them, and a long, hairline crack formed in the shield. They spun around as the screams of their peers rose in volume, the bulk of the student body still stuck on the field.

"How do we kill it?" She shouted over the noise as they started walking forward towards the breaking wards.

"We can't." They shouted back, and she stumbled, Draco catching her arm and steadying her.

"What do you mean '_we can't_'!? What the hell _is_ it?" She questioned, and they turned knowing, fierce eyes on her.

"That, Virginia," they responded in unison, "is a Deep Lord."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Reviews are food for the soul, so please let me know what you thought!


	12. Serpentine Glory

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

To my darling reviewers: **tkmoore**, as always, you are a _goddess_! **Kat Davi**, sort of, it's always been the way I thought they would look! And you're too generous! My own sword!? (jumps with glee) **Dracoluver2009**, well, Harry does make an appearance in this chap! lol! **kia**, thanks! **windpine**, I hope this chapter did what you asked! If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask! **Jo-Marie**, trust me, I plan to keep going as long as you guys keep reading! **seri-chan**, I promise you at least that many chappies! And please desensitize yourself to Gryff-bashing, 'cause there's sure to be more! lol! **Jan**, (bows at thy feet) oh, and just 'cause he chooses not to expend that much of _any_ sort of feeling towards her doesn't mean he _likes_ her by any means! **ladyize**, (drools with you) thanks! **short arse**, thanks! **White Tiger5**, (ponders personal Dracos and Blaises, then promptly keels over and dies of wanting!) **TarynMalfoy88**, obsessions can be a good thing. I'm honored! **xPlayer Haterx**, thanks, I will! **natalie**, your wish shall be granted. Eventually. Probably soon. Maybe. lol! **SamiJo06**, no accusations, please! (runs and hides) **Iced Faerie**, I hope this cleared it up a bit! **a.sam**, another lovely review as always! Thanks! **babykelyse**, I love you too! I'm glad you liked the Quidditch! **ColeForever16**, you rock! I'm glad you dug it! **Lillian-is-fickle**, never fear, there shall always be Gryff bashing! And Hermione…Well, I guess you'll have to wait and see! **Anonymous**, thanks! **Jen**, thank you! **OpalKoboi**, I sincerely hope you meant 'weird' in a good way! lol! **power of the stars**, and I'm addicted to your reviews! **Psi**, and I love thee! **cloaked**, I do believe I have a new review queen to add to the top three! That was great, I loved your list! **xxbabysparklesxx**, thanks! **aoi-yuki-yume**, you, my friend, are _awesome_. Now, forward ho!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco was not pleased as he removed his Quidditch pads. It was bad enough that they were about to have to fight one of the creatures that had imprisoned him and Blaise. His only nightmares stemmed from that experience, and he had hoped that he wouldn't have to face one of the Deep Lords again. There were only seven of them in total, and they ruled the demons of the Underworld, answering only to the Low Lord and the High Kings and Queens of the Dark Realm. To his knowledge, they couldn't really be killed, at least by nothing less then the hand of a god. A powerful god. Cocidius could do it if any of them could, but there were certain limits to how much He could help them.

He could heal them, of course, and could lead them through the Marks, but He couldn't come down and fight the Deep Lord for them. He could speak to them and draw them into Reverie as He had done after He Fell, but He couldn't bring them back from the dead again. So they were mostly on their own for this one. Or so Draco thought until the Mark on his arm flared to life, divine fury sweeping through him and filling his limbs with a strength he didn't usually possess. He felt at least ten feet tall as the energy kept coming and coming, and his swords were in his hands, the sheathes on his back, before he even realized it. A deep, familiar voice echoed within his mind, and devotion seeped through him.

_'Fight, my Chosen! It is Bercarmerthmorurg that challenges thee! Thee must not let him pass, nor let him take thee! He wishes not for thy deaths, but for thy souls! Use the Book!'_

Chills shot down Draco's spine. Bercarmerthmorurg. It was him, then. The one who had taken him and Blaise down into the Underworld at their fathers' behest. _Fuck. _He could still vividly remember the sting of the demons' whips and the stomach-turning sensations that their disgusting, burning tongues had caused as they had lapped the blood from his skin. He could still remember the feel of their tainted, twisted spirits trying to break into his mind, could still remember the torture their claws had inflicted, impaling him time and time again. But the worst had been seeing the same happening to Blaise, and the bastards had known that. Fear shot through him, and it wasn't until then that he realized the demon was trying to bespell him.

Because as much as he hated them, as much as he wished that he could slaughter each and every one of them, he no longer feared them. Maybe it was because of the time he had spent with them, seeing how craven and weak they truly were. Or maybe it was because he held no fear of death within his soul. But one way or the other, the demon had given itself away by sending fear instead of something else. Pushing back and fully closing his mind to the hideous thing, he felt a feral smile creep across his face. He was no longer the child he had been when this demon had last tasted of his flesh. Hell, his Elemental ability hadn't even been awakened yet, and it had been years after that that he'd taken the vampiric blood from Neithotep.

"Fan out in a semi-circle." He said, and Blaise and Virginia nodded, moving to the left of him as he went to the right. His shoulder still ached faintly from where someone had thrown something at him during the game, but the bone had healed before he'd even gotten the Snitch.

He watched Virginia as she moved, knowing that their god rode heavily inside her, as well. She stalked across the grass with grace to equal theirs, and his chest felt tight, almost suffocating. Why the hell did she have to be so stubborn? She hadn't even fought a lesser demon yet, but now she stood beside them, about to fight a Lord of the Deep. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than for her to be as far away as possible. If she died…No, he wouldn't think about that. He had to keep his head clear. He just didn't want her to have to do this. Tomorrow was going to be horrible enough without this added to it.

Because tomorrow was when the official story of what had happened in Alexandria was going to hit the papers. His and Blaise's head lawyer, Satordi, had managed to secure a deal with the Auror Head, Carrick. The full story would be released without any pending lawsuits from the families, but they had had to hush it up for a week and give the Weasleys time to grieve outside of the public eye. Carrick hadn't been pleased, but most people shut up very quickly when Satordi mentioned the word 'lawsuit', and wisely so. Watching Blaise flip his braid over one shoulder, Draco gritted his teeth. He worried for him as well, but not nearly as much as he did for Virginia. He and Blaise had been fighting demons for three years, after all.

And at least they _had_ some previous experience. She had none. The Mark on his arm tingled again, and a feeling of understanding flowed from it. _Well, _that's_ comforting_, he thought dryly. _Our god is as worried for her as we are. That's just _perfect_. _As if hearing his thoughts, the Mark pulsed in what he was almost sure was a sarcastic way. Seconds later, twin swords appeared in Virginia's hands, surprising all three of them. Draco had only been moments from giving her one of his, as had Blaise, but there didn't seem to be a need to anymore. The swords gave of the same energy that theirs did, old magick worked into the blades.

They were beautiful, the hilts made of ebentine and platinum and the blades of an unearthly, fiery steel that was the color of freshly spilt blood. The hilt of one sword was the same as his were, a fierce dragon, and the other matched Blaise's, shaped into the hooded figure of Death. She stared at them for a moment, before looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled slightly, and her eyes shot to Blaise, then returned to the swords. She twirled one in her hand, the setting sun flashing off of the blade and sending small beams of fading light across her stunning features. Had he ever encountered a creature as splendid as she?

Blaise didn't count, of course, but her beauty rivaled even his, which was something Draco had thought impossible for a very long time. Until she came. She was like a bright spot amid all of their darkness, but one that welcomed that part of them instead of shunning it. She had become their hope, another reason besides each other to continue drawing breath each morning. She understood them, and she didn't try to change them. Not even in the small ways that their other friends and even their mothers did. So how could they not cherish her? How could they not desire to protect her in any way that they could? It was inconceivable.

But somehow, they had failed. Because here she was, about to face an evil beyond what she could even begin to imagine. Nothing resembling anything good lay within the creature that was currently pounding the wards into dust. The screaming fools that were trying to flee had no idea that their shrieks of fear were quite literally food for the demon, had no idea that their terror was what was giving it the strength to break through the infamous shields. He knew there wasn't any way to shut them up, though, so he didn't even try. They were beyond listening to anything anyway, driven by instincts and instincts alone. It just happened to be the instinct to run. _Sheep, _he though idly, his eyes tracking the demon's progress.

_'You have the Book, yes?'_ He asked Blaise through their open Marks, and saw a humorless smile grace his lover's face.

_'Oui.'_ Blaise replied, holding out a hand and calling the Book in with a series of passwords and incantations. Their three, melded shields that surrounded it melted away under his touch, and the Book opened on its own, the pages turning and fluttering rapidly. Another twinge of divinity raced through them, and the pages settled. Blaise cocked an elegant eyebrow at what he read, before smirking. ((Yes))

_'Will it help us?' _Virginia questioned, her pupils splitting as she called on Cocidius's gift of shapeshifting. He had granted her what she would have otherwise never have possessed. Mixing a bit of Draco and a bit of Blaise, He had given her the talent that they had been born with the day He had Marked them. And with the Marks open, she shared their bloodlust as well.

_'Yes.' _Blaise hissed, his voice full of satisfaction. _'But whichever of us does it will need a circle and at least ten minutes, maybe even twenty.'_

_'Go then.' _Draco replied, moving forward as another hit upon the wards had the earth shaking under their feet. _'It will be in within a minute. Get back and get the circle up. Virginia, guard him. I'll distract it.' _She shot him an uneasy look, as did Blaise, and he glared back at them. _'Go, damn you!'_

They did. Both flew towards him, whispering '_Je t'aime_' and kissing him desperately, before they sped back across the field, their movements almost blurred even to his eyes. They stopped before the group of stock-still Slytherins, and Blaise sat immediately, putting both palms on the open pages of the Book and letting his eyes fall closed. Virginia pressed her lips against his, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, before moving back and pressing one of her swords' tips into the snow. Moving quickly, words of power and protection spilling from her rosy lips, she began tracing a circle upon the ground, magic flowing from the blade and into the soil.

Another deafening crash came from in front of him, and he forced himself to rip his eyes away from his lovers. The Deep Lord towered over him, still a good twenty yards away, and its eyes flashed hungrily as their gazes met. It lifted a huge, clawed hand and waved, its flaming lips pulling back to expose row upon row of deadly teeth dripping deadlier venom. He supposed that the thing meant for it to be a smile, but it was simply hideous in his opinion, and much more like a grimace. Hell's fires burned within its bottomless eyes, and the screams of the eternally tormented rang within its roars. It held its long, trademark whip within one fist, and a ball of darkfire in the other.

_Two can play at that game, _he thought to himself, and let his own darkness race down his blades. Throwing a sight shield around himself, since surprise was always an excellent weapon, he made it to where none of the watching students or the demon could see his rising power. The blades' magic mixed with his easily, naturally, and they burst into black and silver flames. As the demon's fist came down again, nearly toppling the shield, Draco threw open the well to his Elemental magic, letting it surround him in a bright cocoon of freezing ice and ferocious power. The snow all along the ground responded to him immediately, flying up and whipping around him, caressing his skin as a lover would and steadying his soul.

It moved and twisted around his feet, giving him the best footholds and traction that it could as he began moving more to the right, away from his two lovers. They could see him moving, but he knew that he still looked like his normal self because of the sight shield. He sensed the circle go up behind him and breathed a short sigh of relief. That much was done, and the timer started. He felt his power continue to grow as a frosty blue tint spread across his skin, right before silver light burst forth from it, causing him to shine like a landed mercury star in the deepening darkness. The sun was almost completely gone, and the vampiric essence inside his spirit became more pronounced as it continued sinking beyond the horizon.

The demon hit the shield again, and he knew it would only take one more hit, two at max. Sending a short prayer down the link in his Mark, he fell into a crouching position, everything but the coming battle fading from his consciousness. Another 'BOOM' rent the air and the wards finally crumbled, falling around him like a shower of sunshine. The Deep Lord roared in triumph, leaping onto the pitch and landing hard, nearly knocking Draco off his feet as the ground shook much worse than before. It mimicked his crouching position, staring at him with burning red eyes as its forked tongue flashed out, licking its nearly nonexistent lips. Its spittle hissed and steamed as it came into contact with its rough, scaly flesh, and a trail of poison leaked out of the corner of its mouth, falling upon the snow with a 'splat' and eating it like acid. It didn't stop at the snow, either, but continued eating through the ground.

"Ssso we meet again, young Malfoy." It said in a sibilant voice that was underlain with the cries of the damned as heavily as its roar had been.

"Yes, Bercarmerthmorurg. What business have you here?" He questioned, and a thought had the snow under his feet hardening, preparing it so he could spring when necessary.

"Name me not, little puppet of godsss!" It thundered, fire streaming from its nostrils. "And my busssinessss is with thee and thine."

"What could you possibly want with us?" Draco inquired, although he already knew at least one of the reasons. "And call me not a puppet; you slave for others far more than I do or ever shall."

"Liesss!" The demon yelled, its mouth beginning to froth. "I ssslave for _no one_! But _thee_ ssshall ssslave for _me_."

"I wasn't aware that you'd become delusional with old age, Bercarmerthmorurg. Because if either of us ever slaves for the other, it will be you for me." Draco said flippantly, not allowing his eyes to stray to his lovers as they very much wished to do. All of his attention, all of his senses, were completely trained on the Deep Lord that was glaring death at him.

"Thee hasss nothing worth _that_ much to me, Black Healer." It said, flexing a clawed hand threateningly.

"Don't I?" Draco drawled, cursing the fact that their voices were carrying so well over the pitch. The screaming had finally stopped, he knew that much. But he couldn't risk turning to see why; he just knew that the students were all still there, staying eerily silent.

"No!" It exclaimed, moving subtly closer. Draco retreated the same amount, showing the demon that he had caught the movement. He knew that he had to keep it talking for a few more moments, which shouldn't prove too difficult. One of a demon's weaknesses is that they love to hear themselves speak, especially if they're bragging or insulting. It probably had something to do with their innate fearlessness. The only things that usually brought them true terror were the Dark Royals, so why should they worry about drawn-out conversations?

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yesss. Thee are not truly any different than the ssscared little clussster of humansss that cowersss behind thee and waitsss for thee to die."

"Funny." He replied, smirking. "I was told that a bare taste of mine and my boyfriend's blood as children had you in ecstatic fits, O Mighty One!" He taunted, moving ever more to the right. The demon snarled.

"Thy blood may have been exccceptionally tasssty, but not enough for me to do thee any favorsss for more." It said, moving closer once again. "Thee hasss not enough power to tempt me. No earth-walker hasss in millennia."

"And if I did?" He asked, pleased that the demon was falling smoothly into his rapidly planned trap. He had an idea, but it had to go off without a hitch.

"I am here under contract, dark one, and being paid a handsssome priccce. Nothing of thine can sssway me."

"So be it. Your words are acknowledged and remembered by earth, sky and those who rule you." Draco replied, tying it to its statement.

The first look of wariness crept into its eyes, but Draco waited no longer. Calling on a controlled stream of energy, he pushed out with it and blew the sight shield into pieces, power bursting outwards from him like an explosion. The silver glow he was bathed in was bright enough to blind, as were the shards of ice and the swirling, gleaming snow that surrounded him in a fierce whirlwind. Darkfire licked along the edges of his extended aura, and his swords were the same mix of silver energy and black, freezing flames. The screams had started again, and the demon actually stumbled backwards a bit, its crimson eyes growing wide with disbelief as its nostrils flared.

"It cannot be!" The Deep Lord bellowed, jumping to its feet much more quickly than one would assume something its size could move. "Thee smellsss of the Firssst Born!"

"I _am _First Born." Draco snapped, the words coming straight from his Mark, not from his mind. The Mark flashed in reply, its light bright enough to shine through even his. The demon's eyes narrowed, as if remembering and regretting its earlier, binding statement, while Draco's mind was spinning, completely thrown off track by what had just escaped his lips. _First Born? How?_ "Do you deny my claim, Lord of the Deep?" He asked, his lips once more moving of their own accord.

"Nay." The demon replied, its tongue flicking out as if tasting his scent. "But it can change nothing sssince thy have bound me by my word, iccce princcce."

"How sad. I'm told my blood is quite sweet." He teased, watching the drool flow faster from between its lips.

"No wonder Lord Cocccidiusss hasss sssuch an interessst in thee three." Its eyes narrowed again. "Ssspeaking of which, where might your little loversss b-"

That was his cue. Letting it speak no more, he attacked. Holding both swords out, he let power collect in his hands before sending it shooting down the blades. The demon, surprised, dodged one of the energy balls, but got hit with three others. They slammed into its right side and it howled, clawing at its chest. The energy began spreading, covering the demon's flesh in a thick layer of ice that melted against its always-burning skin much too slowly for its liking. Not giving it a chance to recover, he kept sending power through his swords, continuing his rightward path. The demon spun with him, snarling furiously, as more and more of the frosty balls attached to its skin.

"Thy cannot kill me, foolisssh child!" It screamed, and Draco laughed.

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but I can certainly defeat you!" Which was possibly true. The only wizards and witches known to have fought and defeated a higher demon were the Elementals, the White Wanderers and the Dark Lords. He had a better chance than most, at any rate.

With another earsplitting roar, the creature spun again, showing its back, and moved to the other side of the field. Its lips moved swiftly, calling forth its first fighter. Dueling a Deep Lord was not the same as any other creature; because they didn't fight you themselves until you had beaten four of their minions. They did it that way because even if you survived, you would be so worn out that it would be an easy win for the damned thing. Thanking Cocidius profusely for his stamina, he readied himself for whatever would be sent after him first. A small portal opened in midair, growing quickly, and a large figure slid through. When Draco recognized it, he rolled his eyes.

The demon must have had a really bad memory if it thought a _yeti_ was going to be a problem for him. _Honestly_. Slightly insulted, he didn't even move as the tall creature lumbered towards him. It was dangerous enough to normal witches and wizards, as it was quite ferocious and loved the taste of human flesh. It stood nearly nine feet tall, and was nearly as thick around as a tree. It resembled an ape, and it was one of the biggest problems the Ministry had with the regulation of magical creatures. One was always being sighted by some muggle or another, and they had some ridiculous name for it. It kept coming towards him, slowly and slightly bent over, but he knew it could move much faster.

"Can I keep the fur?" He called to the demon, sincerely curious since they were quite rare. Yeti fur was as smooth as silk once it had been cleaned, and was impervious to stains, which made it highly prized. Most people couldn't get close enough to kill one however, and he and Blaise had only hunted the monsters twice. Which is how he knew that it wouldn't be too hard to slay the stupid thing.

"If thee can kill it." The demon agreed, its tone almost comforting, but Draco saw right through it. At least the yeti made sense now. It was just a test. Or so he hoped. Slightly more enthusiastic since he could keep the fur, he moved to meet the creature.

"Oi, stupid!" He called, and the yeti lifted its shaggy black head. Beady eyes that reminded him vaguely of a shark's latched onto him, and Draco dampened the flow of power leaking from his skin. There was no need to keep such an open link for a creature the likes of which he had killed before his third year. "Come on boy, you can make it. I promise not to draw your death out too long."

The creature appeared to understand the _meaning_ of his jeering words, at least, and its speed picked up. It rushed him in a charge of blind fury, and he stepped nimbly to the side, kicking it in the lower back as it sped past him. It fell face first in the snow, grunting and getting back to its feet slowly. Too slowly. His left blade slashed out just as its face lifted, and he took out the eye closest to him, not wanting to damage its fur. The creature howled as its eye popped, and thick, foul fluids ran down both his blade and its face. Dancing agilely backwards, Draco wiped the filth from his sword in the snow, idly watching the darkfire lick at the small, crystalline flakes.

The creature was still screaming, and quickly getting bored, Draco sat down upon the snow, stretching out his legs. Noticing a scuff on his boots, he buffed it off with the end of his Quidditch robes, and pondered over the fact that this wasn't nearly as dangerous, life threatening or exciting as he had originally thought. Remembering his comment to that stupid bicorn a couple of weeks back, he smirked. Yes, perhaps the Deep Lords _weren't_ as fearsome as they'd thought. The creature finally stopped its insufferable screeching, and charged towards him again. Its aim was off because of lost depth perception, but he could have easily avoided it anyway.

Very nearly yawning, he blocked its swinging fist, twisting around and taking its legs out. Looking down at it, he rolled his eyes again at the too-easy kill and backed off, letting it regain its feet. He figured he might as well let it have one more go before finishing it. It would put a little more time towards Blaise finishing the spell, at any rate. The creature, quite typically, charged him again, and he, thoroughly disgusted with such an unworthy opponent, decided to grant the large, moronic beast a favor and give it a swift death. Still not wanting to damage the fur, he twisted and leaped as it drew even with him, quickly sheathing his swords and putting a pale hand on each side of its head as he perched upon its back. Then, with one quick, forceful yank, he broke its neck like a piece of kindling.

"Please tell me that the next…_thing _you dredge up will be a bit more challenging." He called out to the Deep Lord, landing on his feet again and vanishing the yeti's body so that the treacherous demon couldn't steal it back simply because Draco wanted it.

"Oh yessss." It hissed. "The next ssshould be quite a challenge, _child of godsss_." It stressed the last part, and the first twinge of worry appeared in Draco's icy mental shield. By naming him a descendent of a god, and therefore a descendent of that god's entire bloodline, the demon upped the stakes. He had a creeping feeling that he would not be fighting three more _consecutive_ foes. And probably not only three. _Wonderful. _

The portal opened again, and seven figures poured out that time. But these were not mere yeti. They were his mortal enemies. _Werewolves_. The vampire in him leapt to the forefront, a deep-seated, primal rage engulfing his entire being. His fangs grew to longer, sharper proportions then they did when he was simply feeding, and claws sprung from his fingers instantaneously. The growling pack moved in on him, and he hissed a warning, drawing his swords again and once more letting his power rise and surface full-force. The blinding silver glow confused the werewolves, and he struck hard and fast, slicing the nearest wolf open from shoulder to hip.

Another, quickly recovered, jumped at him, and he impaled its stomach with one sword, drawing the yelping beast close and baring its neck. Its sweet, satisfying blood pumped down his throat, and he kicked another wolf back as it sprung at him from the side. Not having time to draw the feeding out, he drained the wolf in bare moments, throwing its limp body at the next that tried its luck. Three of them leapt at him at once, their movements swift and sure, and he took off one's head, sunk a blade to the hilt in another's neck, but didn't have time to get away from the third. Claws dug into his side their full four inches, sending fire through every nerve ending.

Not having enough time for more then a spot of rapid healing, he ripped the wolf off of him and threw it to the side like a rag doll. _Three dead and four to go_, his thoughts raced, while the sweet, cold rage continued infusing him from head to toe. Every cell within his body called out to kill the creatures in front of him, to repay the blood-debt the twisted beings owed his kind from ages long past. The four remaining wolves circled him slowly, cautious after the deaths of their pack mates. Their amber eyes reflected his silver light back at him, and the same fury he felt burned inside their gazes as well. Running footsteps sounded from behind him, and he moved sideways, keeping an eye on the circling wolves while seeing what was coming. When he did, he almost dropped his sword.

"_Potter?_" He questioned in disbelief, mechanically blocking one springing wolf's attack. Sure enough, there was the idiotic Gryffindor twit, running hell-bent towards him with a silver sword in one hand and his wand in the other. "What in the holy fuck do you think you're _doing_?"

"I'm going to _help _you, you stupid bastard! What do you think!?" Potter called back, approaching them and slowing slightly. Another wolf sprung, and Draco momentarily forgot about Potter as the wolf's blood called to him. It was the one that he had first wounded, and the gash on its side was bleeding profusely. Swinging with his right arm, his fist and his sword's hilt slammed into the werewolf's skull and knocked it to the ground, unconscious.

"Fool!" He snapped at Potter, seeing the remaining wolves beginning to turn towards him. Having a good mind to sit back and watch the moron get brutally ripped apart piece by piece, he began to sheathe his swords when another bolt of energy shot through his Mark.

_'As amusing as that might be, dear Chosen, the human boy is needed. Thee must save him.'_

_'What!? You've got to be _kidding_ me! He got himself into this shit!'_

_'Foolish bravery runs deep, as does misplaced love. I know only that thee shall have need of his blood one day. Trust him not, for something dark, yet strange, poisons his mind, but thee must save him all the same, my Chosen.'_

Cursing savagely and feeling vaguely ill at Cocidius mentioning Potter and love together, Draco moved like lightning and jumped on the wolf's back that had been about to take out Potter's throat. The absolute bloody _genius_ was trying to _stupefy_ it. _How pathetic_. Feeling more than a bit vindictive over having to help the idiot, Draco caught his eyes as the wolf bucked underneath him, and smirked cruelly before sinking claws into the wolf's throat and ripping it open. Blood sprayed in a wild, warm arch, splattering over Potter's stunned face and even hitting Draco. Dropping off the dead wolf's back, Draco licked his lips automatically and ducked as another wolf sailed over him. It twisted when it landed, snarling and moving towards them as its last pack mate joined it.

"Would you please explain why in the fuck you decided to curse me with your company?" Draco snapped as Potter fell into step with him. "And do tell me that sword is at _least _enchanted. I know even _you _couldn't be quite dim-witted enough to run out in front of a demon with some _muggle_ blade." Potter shot him a glare before turning back to the advancing wolves.

"Its not 'some muggle blade'," Potter said through clenched teeth. "It's Gryffindor's. Dumbledore gave it to me. And you looked like you could use some help with _the pack of bloody werewolves_ trying to _kill_ you."

"So you thought _you _were a good candidate? Besides, I didn't, and still _don't_, need your help. It does appear our roles are quite reversed inside your feeble little mind." Draco hissed, completely furious about having to practically baby-sit the helpless little shit, and doubly that because of the four-footed traitors that still breathed before him.

"Shut up, Malfoy! Now how do we kill them?" Potter asked in his utterly naïve way, and Draco shoved him backwards, redrawing a single sword and letting darkfire fill his other hand.

"_We_ aren't doing shit." Draco snarled as the first wolf became bolder, and his words were strangely similar to those that he had spoken to Virginia. Strange also was how they were directed first at one he loved, and then at one he altogether detested. "_You're _going to move your lily-white arse backwards and get the fuck out of my way. Or did you prefer to die today? I'm sure we could arrange _something_."

"If you can kill them, so can I! You're no better than me, Malfoy!" Potter retorted, and in a classically stupid move, he turned to face Draco, taking his attention off of the werewolves.

They attacked simultaneously, and Draco shoved Potter to the ground, ignoring his cry of protest. Wonder Boy shut up, though, as he saw Draco throw up a black shield, which the two wolves crashed into. The darkfire burned through fur and skin in moments, and the creatures yelped and whimpered, scurrying away before it could kill them and licking their wounds. More footsteps came from behind, and Draco stifled a groan. Not _again_. Feeding more energy into the shield, he turned to see another six werewolves trying to flank them. He was actually sort of relieved. At least he didn't have _two_ people he had to watch after. One was bad enough, especially considering the half-blood brat that it happened to be.

"Fuck! Potter, on your feet!" He said, grabbing the other boy up by his scarlet robes. Potter didn't even protest after he saw more of the wolves running towards them. "Alright, do you really want to help?" Draco questioned, watching as the wolves loped closer and closer to where they were.

"Yes." Potter replied seriously, looking over at him. The last near-death experience seemed to have sobered him a bit. Thanking Cocidius for small favors, Draco nodded.

"Fine. Run."

"_What??_"

"Run, you deaf simpleton!" Draco sneered, shoving him away. "I'm serious! Now, go!"

"Why in the hell should I-"

"Goddamnit, Potter!" Draco shouted, at the end of his patience. "I need at their backs!"

Understanding flashed across Potter's face, and Draco felt like hitting him. Cursing, he shoved him again, and Potter finally got the idea, running as fast as he could toward the far end of the pitch, away from the remaining students. The werewolves hesitated for a split second, looking between an enemy that had already killed off quite a few of them, to the fleeing human. Then they took off after Potter at once, just as Draco had known they would do. The two behind his shield ran around it, joining the other wolves, and Draco once more put up his sword before taking off after them. Calling in a fistful of darkfire and another of lethal ice, the chase begun.

One wolf noticed the danger coming from behind, but it was too late, as it had barely turned its furry head when the ice slammed into it. It went flying and tumbling through the air, before hitting snow much harder than it should have been. He was on the wolf in a second, and the ice had already spread over its entire body. Its eyes were still moving wildly, but one sharp hit to the chest had it breaking into nothing more than glittering shards. Then he was back on his feet, and a few running steps later, he leaped, crashing into two more wolves. They went down in a tangle of limbs and fur, and he rolled to the side, grabbing the muzzle of one wolf and letting darkfire race straight off his hand and into its body.

It began twitching madly, crumbling to dust, and he jumped to his feet, slamming his booted heel on the head of the other before it even knew what had happened after the fall. Taking off again, he saw Potter almost collide with the far goal posts, and the remaining werewolves were slowing, obviously intending to play with him a bit. Deciding that he could do much the same, Draco shifted in mid-sprint, and between one footfall and the next, muscles twisted and changed, flesh melted and fur flowed. He landed on four feet, his black-striped silver fur glowing with its own light as a single leap covered the considerable distance between himself and the wolves.

He landed in their center, right behind Potter, and they jumped in surprise. With a deep, feline roar, he launched himself at them, one massive paw swiping out and gutting the nearest wolf before his bulk slammed into the others. His senses were screaming at him as teeth sunk into his left hindquarter, and a powerful kick with the injured leg had the wolf's fangs ripping loose, tearing muscle and crunching bone as the creature was knocked back. His own teeth had another wolf by the throat, and blood shot out as he shook it, soaking the front of his fur. Spinning on the last two wolves, one of which was getting back up, he recognized the rising one's scent as that of a pack leader.

Growling low in his throat, he advanced slowly, a second from springing when Potter jumped in front of him, shouting something about him being wounded. Slightly dumbfounded at the Gryffindor's daftness, he wasn't able to react fast enough when he felt another wolf sneak up behind him. The damned thing was on his back before he could turn, its teeth clamping around his neck from behind. Cursing Potter with everything he had, he tried to shake the creature off, scent telling him it was the one he'd left unconscious across the field. Which just proved his belief to not to leave any of your enemies alive.

And he wouldn't have if that bastard hadn't come running over in the first place, playing the stereotypical hero. The other wolves, apparently abandoning Potter as they saw that their comrade had him, leaped on top of him too and managed to flip him over. Drawing his legs in to protect his belly, he cursed again as the second wolf's teeth sank into the vulnerable part of his throat and the third's ripped into his shoulder. The world began slowly going black, and his limbs felt so very heavy…Fighting against the pull, he determined that the thing's fangs hadn't broken the skin on the front of his throat, since it had iced over, instinctively protecting itself.

That didn't stop his air from being cut off though, and the three werewolves together almost equaled his weight as a much-larger-than-normal tiger. If he could get to his feet…Why was it so hard to concentrate? Struggling, he almost managed to get the wolf off of his shoulder, but the first wolf let go of the back of his neck and threw its weight fully on top of him. The darkness in front of his eyes was growing more and more distinct, and all he could think of was tearing Potter's head off. Everything would have been _fine_ if he hadn't interfered, not once but _twice_. Renewed rage coursed through him, but it wasn't enough. Feeling himself sinking into darkness, he thought he was hallucinating when two voices exploded inside his mind.

_'Non, mon âme! Venir en arrière!' _Was that Blaise? ((No, my soul! Come back!))

_'Draco! Please, no!' _And…Virginia?

_'I can't,' _he tried to say, but wasn't sure that he wasn't just talking to himself in the first place.

_'You must, cher un, you cannot leave us!' _((dear one))

_'Fight it, Draco! Blaise is almost done! Please!' _Her voice cut off with a sob, and he knew there was _something_ he could do, but he couldn't think…

_'I can't-can't remember…The demon…'_

_'Is fogging your mind as your strength wanes under its beast's teeth! Remember your birthright, souverain de mon coeur!' _((prince of my heart))

As if a veil had been lifted, Draco came back to himself, his mind clearing of the confusion spell. Every ounce of fury came back tenfold, and a burst of power had the wolves flying backwards like leaves in a storm. Springing to his feet, adrenaline cloaking the pain from his few, but serious, wounds, he scanned the area, searching for other threats. The three wolves had been shredded into bits by the icy explosion, and Harry was standing a few yards away, just out of range of his controlled blast. Snarling at the Gryffindor's guilty expression, he shifted back, quickly surveying the damage done to his body.

His left hip was shattered, but healing, and his left arm was hanging uselessly as the shoulder wound began to slowly close. Blood was trickling steadily down his back from the rear neck wound, and his robes and skin on his right side were hanging in tatters. The front of his throat felt bruised and was making it hard to breathe, and he knew that the wounds, since made by werewolf claws and teeth, would take a while to completely heal. Looking up at Potter, his thoughts froze over. He was going to kill him. Potter seemed to realize his intentions, and his emerald eyes widened. Moving swiftly, Draco appeared before him and raised a blue-tinged fist.

The Mark on his arm flashed, Cocidius's words running through his infuriated consciousness, and he barely had time to pull back before the killing blow landed. Stumbling and grabbing his forearm, he shot a hate-fed look at the boy standing shocked before him. Tearing his gaze away, he ripped off the bottom length of his robes, and tore that part into strips. Working speedily as the demon began moving towards them, he removed his sheathes and slid his robes the rest of the way off, bandaging his shoulder. At least he was regaining movement in his arm. When he was satisfied with that, he wrapped the remaining strips around his bare abdomen, covering the wound on his side. Kicking his ruined robes out of the way, he replaced his swords and faced the leisurely approaching threat.

"I-" Potter started hesitantly. "I should have listened to you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, I just wanted to help." The boy said, and the nauseous green tint that he'd acquired when Draco had dressed his wounds was still lingering on his face.

"You're damn right you should have listened to me." Draco snapped, licking his fingers free of his blood and beginning to rapidly re-braid his hair since it was coming loose and falling in his face, not to mention rubbing against his hurt back.

"I'm…I'm _sorry_, okay?" Potter stressed, and Draco's fingers missed a beat. _Potter_ had just _apologized_? To _him_? Finding the situation suddenly quite humorous, Draco decided to string him along a bit. He could see quite a few possibilities for this new turn of events. Forcing his face into a considering expression, he added a bit of loathing just to be realistic.

"You-You _mean_ that, Potter?" He asked, loving how sincere he sounded. What a fucking joke. Potter looked surprised, yet pleased at the same time. Congratulating himself on his brilliance, Draco gave a faked weak grin as the demon's voice rumbled over the pitch.

"Impressssive, iccce princcce." It hissed, once more dropping into a crouch. "And who might thy little human friend be?"

"Harry Potter." Draco replied nonchalantly, loving the flicker that crossed Potter's face when he hadn't protested the 'friend' part like he usually would have. Chuckling quite evilly to himself, he drew his swords. "So, do you still stick by your earlier claim?"

"Well, I mussst, mussstn't I?" The Deep Lord questioned sarcastically. "But 'tisss alright. After I kill thee, I ssshall have all of thy blood that I desssire."

"Ahh, now there's the million-galleon question." Draco replied, flexing his injured arm and feeling the slow, steady burn that testified his body was healing itself. "Because I don't believe that you can."

"_Draco_." Potter hissed under his breath, and it took Draco a moment to realize who had said it since it had been his first name spoken, not his last. "What the hell are you _thinking_? You can't fight that thing right now! You're hurt!"

"_Shut the fuck up_." He whispered back viciously, about two seconds from ripping the blabbering fool's tongue out. How much stupider could he honestly get? They were facing a _demon_, and he acted as if the thing couldn't hear them. Yes, Draco might be hurt, but drawing weaknesses to the thing's attention was an incredibly moronic thing to do. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stopped himself from utterly losing his mind and murdering the little twerp.

"Thy ssshall regret not sssurrendering when it isss done." The Deep Lord said, its voice like screeching, crunching metal.

"We shall see." Draco spat, both he and the demon moving forward. Potter made to follow him, and he stepped to the side so he could yell at him. "This is _not_ your fight! You'll just get yourself killed." He told him, but he recognized the bull-headed look crossing Potter's features.

"I'm not letting you do it alone! I'm going to _help_ you, damn it! That's what friends _do_!" Potter practically screamed. Draco barely stopped himself from laughing outright. _Ooooh, this is even better than I thought_.

"_Friends_, Potter?" He asked, having to fight to keep the derisive, mocking lilt from his tone. The demon continued its forward movement, and Potter nodded warily.

"If you want to be."

Draco pretended to think it over for a second. "Alright." He said, and Potter's eyes glinted strangely. Recognizing that look for what it was, he experienced that vaguely ill feeling again. Potter didn't seem to notice, probably didn't even really know what was shining on his face as plain as day, and Draco once more considered just letting him die. _'Thee must save him…' _His Lord's earlier statement echoed in his skull, and he inwardly groaned. The demon drew closer, and he made the only decision he could. He threw a restraining, protective shield over Potter and moved to face the Deep Lord. He could distantly hear Potter pounding upon the shield, yelling at him, but he didn't have time to worry about him anymore.

If he failed, everyone was going to die anyway. When he felt a sick sense of satisfaction at that thought, he made himself remember the other Slytherins, Virginia, Blaise…It strengthened his resolve, but it also made him desperately want to look over at them, pick them out in the crowd of his green and black-clad Housemates. Ignoring the urge, he kept his eyes on the demon, who was raising a hand covered in darkfire. It threw the black and purple ball of flames, and it flew straight towards him. He waited until the last second and leapt out of the way, rolling when he hit the ground and regaining his feet. He sent his own blast of power as he deflected another with the blade of his sword.

It ricocheted off, sailing away a few dozen feet and crashing into the ground, leaving a smoking rut behind it like a meteor would. The demon rushed him, and he stayed utterly still as the earth quaked under his feet. Calling upon his power, he waited until the thing was almost on him before letting his aura slip his skin once more, the silver glow brighter than ever before as Cocidius fed him additional power through the Mark. It bellowed, throwing a hand up over its sensitive eyes, and he sped between its legs, cutting a huge length of its lower right calf open as he passed underneath it. It howled, rising to its full height and spinning around.

"Thee ssshall die much more ssslowly for _that_, little vampling!" It roared, cracking its whip in the air before it.

The long length of human flesh almost caught him, but he managed to get it wrapped around his sword instead of his chest. The blade was yanked out of his hand, and flew almost all the way to where the other Slytherins stood in a concealing circle. Shrugging mentally, he called in a sphere of icy magic, and lobbed one after the other at the demon as he tried to continue ignoring his growing pain. His wounds were beginning to throb since he was pushing himself to his usual endurance while he was still healing, and it was starting to take a toll on him. He barely had time to throw up a silver shield when the next ball of darkfire came sailing towards him, and the force of the impact nearly knocked him to the ground.

He twisted away, feeling the blood flow faster down his back, and threw his own blast of energy at the demon. It hit dead on, and he continued feeding power into the consecutive stream, the demon's scream the sweetest possible melody to his ears. Cutting the flow off when the Deep Lord cracked his massive whip again, he dove to the side. The whip barely grazed him, but it did so on his mangled side. Agony shot throughout his form, a red haze lining his vision. The poison on the whip started its work immediately, although he knew it wouldn't be lethal to him if he could heal it within the next few hours. And if he couldn't do that, then it meant he was already dead.

Hitting the ground hard, he took half a moment to get his breath back before rolling again as he sensed the whip coming down. It slammed into the snow right beside him, and he lashed out with his sword, severing a good five feet of it. At least it lessened the reach a bit. Thick, greenish-brown fluid leaked out of it, and the disconnected end flopped around like a snake with its head cut off. That thought brought another plan to his mind, and he swiftly pondered the probability of it working. Not having a better idea, he jumped to his feet and took off running in order to give himself time and room. The demon laughed, thinking him conquered, and he sneered maliciously at the idea of giving up.

_Not a chance_, he thought to himself, and he forced himself to go faster. The mix of the werewolf poison and the poison of the whip raced through his bloodstream, pain on its heels, and he clenched his teeth. Reaching a spot that seemed as good as any, he turned to see the demon thirty yards away and closing fast. He quickly vanished his remaining sword and the sheathes, before dropping to the ground. Screwing his eyes shut and bracing himself, he attempted a shift that he'd never tried before and prayed that it would work. Now was not a good time to splinch himself. As he felt himself growing and stretching, as he felt his arms melt into his sides and his legs fuse together, he opened his eyes only to see the world completely differently than he had a moment before.

His sight was weak, which was new, but flicking out his tongue told him more about his surroundings then his eyes ever could. He was towering twenty feet over the ground, and still had another thirty coiled underneath him. Scales rippled where flesh once had, and he could taste the venom dripping from his fangs, each of which felt longer than a full-grown human's leg. He had a moment to rejoice in his successful transformation, before the demon was before him. It swung one clawed hand, which was even with his head, and he curved his long, sinuous body to the side easily, barely even having to try. He kept his head lowered, though, as he didn't want to try _that_ weapon until the spell Blaise was working on had activated.

The demon swung again and again, but Draco could move remarkably fast for being inside such a huge body. His wounds were still plaguing him, even worse than before because of the strain the shift had caused, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he slithered away from another blast of darkfire. Lifting himself as far up as he could, he would have found himself eye to eye with the Deep Lord had he looked up. As it was, his tongue flickered madly, readings of his surrounding pouring into his brain like crazy. He dodged the whip again and struck at the same time, his fangs sinking in to the demon's neck and shoulder.

He found, to his delight, that he could still feed in his current form, and mouthful after mouthful of powerful blood swamped his senses. He was thrown back after a short time of the demon struggling, but it was enough for the blood he had received to cancel out dragging pain for the moment. He had never tasted demon blood before, and what he had figured would be foul and sludgy was in reality as smooth as satin and better than an aged red wine. The demon, infuriated, brought the back of its fist down with dizzying speed, and it connected with the side of Draco's head, hard. As he fell to the side, facing the mass of students, he only had time to shut his eyes, nothing more.

It was fortunate that he had remembered to do so, as it was well-know that a basilisk's gaze is fatal, and he curled in on himself when he hit the ground. He was hurt, yes, but he planned to make the demon think him more injured than he truly was. He needed it to get close, to make sure his gaze would have the maximum potency if it even worked on the Deep Lord at all. He didn't have long to wait, as the demon came speeding up and kicked him, sending him rolling across the pitch as he stayed limp. He knew he was heading towards the students, but he couldn't do anything about it without giving himself away. Readying himself for the next blow, he was surprised when it never came.

"Over here, you ugly son of a bitch!" A female voice cut through his mind like razors as he recognized it. Letting his tongue flick out the barest minimum, he discovered that it _was_ Virginia, and that she was moving forward towards the demon, blood already dripping off her blades from something. The first drop of fear entered him, and he had never been more relieved in his life then when he heard the next voice, knowing that its owner would protect her.

"Yes, _do_ come play." Blaise's voice crawled across his tongue almost tangibly, coming from less than five or six yards away, near where the tip of his tail rested beside his head. "I can't think of anything I would rather do at the moment than banish you back to the dank, scorching hole you crawled out of. Well, except for killing you, of course."

"Ssso there thy are." The Deep Lord hissed. "Come out of hiding, have thee? Too bad thee waited ssso long. I'm afraid thy iccce princcce has already fallen." Two familiar explosions of power came from his left, and Draco reveled in the scent of his lovers' released magic. He could also feel the portal opening in the ground behind him, proof that Blaise had been victorious in pulling off the spell.

"You haven't defeated him as long as he still breathes! And you shall have to go through us to reach him." Blaise stated venomously, and he and Virginia moved in front of Draco.

"As thee sssaysss, thunder princcce. Thy ssshall both die with him then!" The demon exclaimed, and Blaise moved directly in front of Draco's head.

With the barest of movements, Draco extended his tongue, letting it brush the back of Blaise's leg lightly. He felt the muscle in his lover's leg tense, and he knew Blaise understood that he was better than he seemed and that the plan had changed. The demon tossed a ball of darkfire at Blaise, and he blocked it with one ebentine sword. The flames rebounded and flew down the pitch, crashing into something with a loud 'BANG'. He didn't know what it was until Blaise began cursing. Apparently, it had hit the shield covering and trapping Potter, and the Gryffindor git was free, once more coming to 'help'. Blaise, thanks to Virginia, already knew what Potter's earlier interference had caused, and he was _not_ happy. Draco had other things to worry about, however, such as his plan.

His timing was going to have to be perfect, he knew that much. If he could pull this off, then both parts of the said plan should merge and fit together quite nicely. If he couldn't…Well, it helped nothing to dwell on _that_. He bided his time as Blaise and Virginia deflected shot after shot of darkfire, and paid no attention when Potter came running up, trying to see if he was all right. Every tiny part of his body was completely in tune with the Deep Lord's movements, and he knew he shouldn't have much longer to wait. When he sensed it drawing its arm back to hit Virginia, he knew it was time, but he almost missed his chance when Potter ignored Blaise's warning and hit him with a subduing spell. It went wrong because of the magic in a basilisk's scales, and instead of just knocking him out, which would have been bad enough, it hit him in the same spot that the demon had, and with the force of a train.

Striking out before he could lose conciousness, and in a move so fast that it very nearly shocked even him, Draco knocked Virginia out of the way and pushed up and to the side, wrapping around the demon's body and constricting with every ounce of strength he possessed. Its arms were trapped under his powerful coils, its legs squeezed together, and they fell to the earth as it lost its balance. His wounds were shrieking in protest, his head swimming and cracking, but he refused to lose it after he had pulled the risky move off to perfection. Lifting his badly injured head, he finally looked the Deep Lord right in the eyes. The body underneath him froze, and he internally howled with triumph. It wasn't dead, but he hadn't expected to kill it. It _was_ petrified, however. His fangs sank into steaming flesh once more, and he gave a tremendous push against the demon's mind, breaking past its inner mental barriers.

_'Revoke your word!' _He shouted, putting as much force behind the mental shout as he could.

_'Never, little Ssshadow-dweller!'_

_'Revoke your word!' _He repeated, giving another savage mental shove. _'Taste of my blood and begone!'_

_'Nay! Think me not ssso foolisssh asss that. In thy debt I would be.' _

_'Then you shall die!' _He screamed, feeling his wounds becoming too much to ignore. _'You feel the trap behind us, I know you do! Cocidius Himself has given us the power to slay you!' _It was a lie, of course, but the demon didn't know that. The Mark, which on his snake body was directly above his third heart, gave a pulse of divinity as if in agreement. That sealed it for the demon.

_'Ssso be it!' _The Deep Lord roared. _'But the Dark Court ssshall hear of Lord Cocccidiusss'sss betrayal!' _

_'And what of your own betrayal by attacking his Chosen in the first place? Do not waste your time trying to trick me regarding Hell's laws. Now say it or meet your end!'_

_'I revoke my word! The Iccce Princcce'sss blood is worth my life!' _As the words left it, Draco twisted his head, never withdrawing his fangs, and let his blood trickle into the demon's mouth.

The air cracked and boomed around them as the Underworld heard its cry and acknowledged the Deep Lord's oath-breaking. A small, black symbol burned itself into Draco's scaly side, a sign of the debt owed to him. Not waiting a moment more, Draco used the last of his strength to shoot into the air, the demon secured tightly in his clutches. Hurriedly unwinding his coils, he kept the grip he had with his fangs and tossed the Deep Lord into the blacker-than-black portal that had opened in the ground. It screamed inside his mind once more, believing itself about to die, but the scream cut off as the demon disappeared, the portal banishing it back to the Underworld.

Collapsing, not a drop of energy left to so much as lift his head with, he let himself shift back. His wounds were all bleeding freshly again, the healing that had been done ruined in the last struggle with the demon. The damage to his hip had actually worsened, his shoulder was dislocated under the shredded flesh, the front and back of his neck were throbbing, and blood had completely soaked through the bandage around his middle. Not to mention that his head felt as if it were splitting open. He could also feel the burn of the debt-mark on his right hand, but it was nothing compared to the rest. His vision was foggy and he only dimly saw three figures rush up to him.

"Draco! Mon âme, can you hear me!?" Blaise's silky voice questioned as each of his hands were latched onto. He fuzzily wondered what had his boyfriend sounding so panicked, but everything was fading out of comprehension.

"Shit! Draco, baby, please say something!" Virginia begged from beside him, and a weird sort of inner peace filled him when he hazily realized that they were both with him. He tried to answer her but his mouth wouldn't work, so he gave up, and seconds later he couldn't really remember what he was attempting to do anyway.

"He's lost too much blood!" Another recognizable voice shouted, and more seemed to be speaking up from everywhere and nowhere.

His hands started tingling, followed shortly by his Mark, and wave after wave of healing energy ran through him. His vision began to clear again, and he could make out his lovers' shapes hovering over him. Blaise's features were masked with concentration and desperation, and he wondered just how badly he was really hurt. Virginia's look mirrored his, and the energy kept coming and coming. Vitality slowly returned to his limbs, cracking the black mist surrounding his mind, and he sucked in a deep breath. Someone above him sobbed, and he turned his eyes from the stars above him back to Virginia. Clearing his dry throat, he was able to speak on the third try.

"I'm alright." He said, his voice sounding hoarse, and she leaned down, planting a tear-laced kiss upon his lips softly, as if she feared he would break. Blaise's kiss was nothing resembling soft or gentle however, and Draco immediately realized that he had sliced his tongue open beforehand, the power-filled blood mingling in their mouths.

"Back away!" He heard Severus yelling at the gawking students, and they reluctantly broke the kiss. "Back away, I said!"

"My sword." Draco whispered as he remembered the blade that had been knocked from his hand. Virginia made a face and Blaise rolled his midnight eyes, but both preformed and '_Accio_' spell at once, and then grinned at each other when they realized it. His missing blade fell into his lap, and he sat up, the wounds still aching under the pain-numbing spells. He could feel that Blaise had neutralized the poisons in his system, but because of them, they hadn't been able to fully heal the damage yet.

"Draco…" Virginia started to protest as he rose to his feet, but he pulled her up with him and silenced her with a thorough kiss, vanishing his sword. Blaise's biting words brought him back from the bliss found in her warm lips.

"You almost ruined it all, you fucking idiot! Why couldn't you just _listen_!?"

"I didn't _know_, all right!" Harry snapped back, and anger leaked into Draco's veins once more. _That absolute bloody_ bastard…

"Didn't know?" Blaise countered acidly, his eyes shining dangerously. "He told you time and time again to stop getting in the way. _I_ told you not to cast that spell, but you just had to be so very goddamned _Gryffindor _and do it anyway! It almost cost us _everything_, almost cost him his _life_, and you want to say that you didn't _know_?" Blaise's voice became lower and lower, seeming to spread out around them in enraged, widening circles, and Draco and Virginia both knew that Potter was about five wrong words away from dying.

"Look, I-" Potter started, but Blaise waved him silent with a dismissive hand, turned on a heel and went to collect his swords, which were laying ten or so feet away. Potter's eyes flashed at the insult, and in a move that seemed more automatic then thought through, he raised the hand his own sword was still clutched in, bringing it down sharply. Fury swamping his senses, Draco leaped in front of Blaise's exposed, vulnerable back and caught the sword in one hand. His balance was off though, as he was still far from fully recovered, and the last thing he knew as he fell into the portal was voices all around and above him rising in screams.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Love it, hate it, please, please, please review! (begs on hands and knees)


	13. Descent Pt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

Dedicated to **babykelyse** for her birthday!

Review responses: **Shelby**, thanks! **windpine**, feel free to slap Harry all you want! lol. **Nalleen**, don't worry, I plan to! **tkmoore**, as usual, you are a goddess among goddesses! **Jan**, don't worry about it, and about the break thing, I know. It hasn't happened yet, but I haven't forgotten! Thanks, though, I love your reviews! **cloaked**, another goddess! I adore you! And don't worry. No one _really_ likes her! **angstygoodness**, thanks! **Anonymous**, thanks! **SamiJo06**, I know, I know, but it had to be done! lol. **Pye**, another cartoon fanatic! I think I'm in love! :) **el chikita joules**, yes, yes he _is_ the sexiest person alive, isn't he? **platypus21**, huge kisses for you! Thanks! **Hikari Niwa**, thankyouthankyouthankyou! **seri-chan**, you are very welcome and thank you so very much for voting for me! **Alex Vossen**, and I love you! Thanks! **bridget**, thanks! **a-sam**, that has to have been the best compliment ever! Thanks! **Chaney**, thanks! I'm glad someone noticed! **TarynMalfoy88**, thank you a million times over! **aoi-yuki-yume**, his stupidity hurts my mind too. (sigh) **xxbabysparklesxx**, he is a bit of an idiot, isn't he? **angelfire33**, you shall have to pry the secret from my cold, dead fingers, lol! I hope you abandoned the 'drastic measures', as well! **Lillian-is-fickle**, thank you! **Shadow Psi**, it's funny how so very many people agree with you! lol. **Jaxindi**, thanks! Hope this was soon enough! **/ **If I missed anyone, sorry! Now to the fic…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione had never seen anything like it in her life, and doubted she ever would again. It's definitely not everyday that you see three of your peers decide to fight a demon. Hermione had been terrified from the moment the thing had appeared, and Harry and Ron had dragged her off to the side, underneath the Quidditch stands. There had been no hope of leaving, as the exit had jammed up remarkably fast, and even the Professors and looked grim and scared. Dumbledore's face had been a mask of sorrow and defeat as he'd seen Ginny, Draco and Blaise go out to meet the thing, and Hermione's heart had caught in her throat.

It's strange how time seems to warp during situations like that, turning a minute into hours and hours into seconds. She had watched it all from her hiding place, that wavering factor of time flashing and racing, freezing and creeping. She had seen the three split up, Blaise going into a trance with Virginia guarding him as Draco had lured the demon away. Choking on tears, she had painstakingly waited for the silver Slytherin to meet his death. It's also strange how situations like that make you realize things that you would otherwise never approach, let alone admit to yourself. But as her heart had pounded inside her chest, as her vision had seemed to fog, she had no longer been able to deny it.

Her fellow students' screams, which had intensified beyond belief when the demon had broken through the wards, had finally died off when everyone had seen the demon began to converse with Draco. It had sounded as though they were right next to them, not fifty yards or more away. She watched different degrees of shock cross all of their faces, as he named the demon and spoke to it with familiarity, and then as it had named him Black Healer and spoke of enjoying his and Blaise's blood. But what floored them and had had more screams rising from already-sore throats was Draco exploding into mercurial brilliance, an unearthly figure of liquid silver light outlined in midnight flames.

Flames that had reminded her of Blaise, and the darkness that you see at night in your room as a child, when you're so very, very sure that there's _something _there, watching you. And then had come the statement that had had the hair on the back of Hermione's neck standing up. Draco's declaration of being First Born, followed by bright flashes from all three of their Marks. Ginny had looked a bit surprised, and the impenetrable mask that she'd had on since starting the circle had melted just a bit, but it was fleeting, and her eyes had once more gone blank. Then the demon had mentioned Draco's lovers, and out of nowhere, he had attacked.

Hermione had watched stupefied as the demon had retreated and sent out a yeti. But Draco had merely taunted it and killed it rather quickly, going so far as to keep the body for the fur. Looking around, she hadn't found her peers' looks of fright and utter terror very comforting, so she had turned back only to see seven werewolves loping towards him and to hear Ginny hiss venomously. Surprised, she had turned to see Ginny beginning to advance, something completely alien filling those charcoal eyes as she had looked at her boyfriend and the werewolves. It had been like the look she sometimes gave Hermione and Harry, but ten times as intense.

Hermione was quite sure that had Ginny ever looked at _her_ like that, she would have then been enjoying her last few breaths of air. The girl had made it five or six feet away before she had turned, her eyes raking over Blaise, and it had seemed that she was torn. The decision had been made for her, though, when another group of werewolves had come running towards her and the Slytherins. At the same time, a blur had shot past Hermione, and she'd spun around to see Harry pelting across the field towards Draco. Only seconds had passed since the first werewolves had even made an appearance, but everything had changed.

Ron had made to run after him, but Hermione had caught his arm, begging him with her eyes not to leave her alone. She'd known that there was nothing the two of them could have done against a demon, and had doubted that even Harry would be much help. Ron had understood immediately, of course, and his face had softened a bit as he'd wrapped her up in a tight hug. She'd heard more people start to scream again, and had pulled away. The same nine, hooded figures that she had seen with Draco, Blaise and Ginny that night in the Ministry had been making their way across the field, gliding with the eerie grace of Dementors.

So it hadn't been too surprising that everyone had thought them a new threat until they had descended upon the wolves in a silent fury, literally ripping them apart within three blinks. There had been a wolf for every one of them, and two had already lay dead at Ginny's feet. The other group of werewolves had been thinned thanks to Draco, and she'd seen him yell at Harry, shoving him until the other boy had run. The wolves had taken off after him, and Draco had followed in a mad chase of amazingly quick death. He'd shifted at the end into an absolutely breathtaking tiger, larger than any she'd ever seen before and whose fur was actually silver, like his hair.

The nine guards had surrounded Ginny, running healing hands over four deep, nasty looking cuts on her upper arm, but her eyes had never left Draco. She'd cursed suddenly, and they'd all turned in time to see Harry jump between an about-to-spring Draco and two snarling wolves. The distraction was nearly fatal. A third wolf, one that she knew wouldn't have gone unnoticed otherwise, had jumped on Draco's back, and it went downhill from there. Hermione had honestly thought him dead when Ginny had sobbed, swaying, and would have fallen had the guards not caught her, her face a deathly white, the rose fading from her lips and eyelids.

A sharp 'CRACK' had had them all turning to the shield that Blaise had been in, and Hermione had nearly fainted, thinking him dead. Because his body had still been just as it was moments before, except there had been _another_ him, a dark, ghostly him that had lifted its hand and slammed it into the shield again, lightning exploding from the contact and making the same loud, cracking noise. Its lips had been moving frantically and Ginny had begun thrashing and mumbling, before another explosion had drawn their attention back to the field. Tiny bits of…_something_ had been raining down around Draco, who had been back on his feet, and Ginny's color had come back as Blaise's transparent image had faded.

The next few minutes had been even more terrifying than the others had been for Hermione, as she had watched a wounded Draco battle the demon before performing a shift she wouldn't have thought possible. She'd watched with bated breath as he'd sunk enormous fangs into the demon, and not a moment afterwards, the shield surrounding Blaise had collapsed. His guards and Ginny had rushed in just as the demon had thrown Draco off and slammed a fist into his head. Ginny had gasped and Blaise's eyes had held a rage that she had never seen the likes of before, not even when Ginny had spotted the werewolves.

He had pushed his guards' hands away, his swords suddenly in his fists, and he and Ginny had shared a brief, meaningful look before both had bolted forward just as the demon had kicked Draco across the field. Short words had been exchanged before the fight had begun again, Blaise and Ginny directly in front of Draco's still, lifeless form. She had heard Blaise say that he still breathed, but she had seen no sign of it. Then Harry had come running up, free from Draco's shield, and had screamed something about subduing him so he wouldn't be in pain. Blaise had spun, blocking a huge ball flames, and had threatened to make children nothing more to him then a distant dream if he did.

He did. Harry had snapped something back and did the spell, but it had gone horribly wrong. It had looked as if an anvil had slammed into the side of the basilisk's head, and she still didn't know how Draco had managed to stay conscious, let alone pull off the move he had seconds later. Twisting up the demon's body and tightening his coils, his fangs had hit their mark again. The sky had screamed and the earth had shaken, and Draco had lifted back up, tossing the demon into the portal Blaise's spell had opened. Blaise and Ginny had been at his side as he had shifted back, falling in a heap of blood-streaked, snowy flesh with his long, frost-coated braid winding behind him.

It had reminded her of the serpent he'd just been at the time, and she had run forward to where Harry was saying something about him losing too much blood. Her limbs had felt heavy as she'd neared him, his and Blaise's guards closing around him as the other Slytherins had also drawn closer. She'd braced herself, as she'd seen the blood on him, but the reality had been quite a bit more brutal. His arm had hung at an awkward angle from his body, the skin of his shoulder shredded, his hip had been an absolute mess, his side had been pouring blood while a growing pool of it had been spreading from underneath him, and the front of his throat had been one huge bruise.

But the worst had been the wound on his head. The right side had been crushed, the damage worse that it had been when he was a basilisk, and she'd felt her stomach churn viciously. Blaise and Ginny had each grabbed one of his hands, and the destruction had seemed to lessen right before their eyes. It didn't heal completely, but the bleeding had stopped and Draco's head had become a normal shape once more. He'd sucked in a breath and was on his feet again before she'd thought possible, after receiving a kiss from each of his lovers, who had both been very near panic moments before. But in the next moments, everything once again changed.

As she stood there, listening to Blaise's cutting words, she grabbed Ron's hand. She couldn't deny the Slytherin's claims, so she said nothing. Time seemed to slow as Blaise blew Harry off, turning on one heel and showing his back, basically saying that he feared nothing from the other. Something in Harry changed then, and in one awful, instantaneous second, he raised his sword as if possessed and brought it swishing down. Draco moved in a flash, suddenly there, and caught the sword. Blaise was already been turning, but Draco's momentum added to that of Harry's swing made him fly over the rim of the portal too fast for even his reflexes.

Ginny screamed, making to leap after him as four of the guards grabbed her arms, and they watched Draco disappear completely. Blaise was frozen, his eyes full of horror, denial, grief…And then they lifted, landing on Harry's stunned form, and that terror-inducing intensity filled them again as a howl was ripped from his throat. The remaining guards did nothing when it appeared that Blaise was about to slaughter the Boy Who Lived, but they did move forward when his mood shifted like the wind and he dove for the portal. They latched onto him, pulling and fighting with everything in them, and it was quite obvious that they had much more than just average human strength. But they were still losing the battle, and Ginny's struggling grew more fierce as she saw that he would break free.

"Release me!" Blaise demanded, tossing one of the guards to the side and trying to shake the other's, his eyes beginning to shift and change. The one who fell jumped back to his feet, his hood opening just enough to let her briefly glimpse glowing, aureate eyes, before he latched back onto his master.

"My lord, _please_!" One of the guards pleaded, a female that had his left arm and was trying with everything she had to keep her grip.

"Would you leave him there!? Would you leave him in their very den!?" Blaise demanded, throwing another guard from him as his own eyes began to glow. "_Release me!_"

"We cannot do that, my lord." Yet another answered, and Blaise's eyes went distant, cold.

"Gaitus corgua analie cora!" Blaise hissed in a language Hermione didn't know, and a shiver passed over the guards, even the ones holding Ginny.

They seemed to be fighting something, but it won out in the end and they reluctantly let their hands drop. Blaise and Ginny moved triumphantly forward, and were less than a foot from the rim of the portal when their Marks flashed again. Something flickered over their faces, clouding their eyes, and they grudgingly took a step back. The guards seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, like a breeze rustling leaves. Ginny stumbled backwards and Blaise caught her automatically, his eyes still trained on the portal. Neither did anything for a long, still moment, the only noise being the Slytherins' uneven breathing and the whispers of the other students. Then they both turned on Harry.

"If he dies, you die." They said simply and in unison, before they sprinted to the far wall, scaled it with ease, and dropped off on the other side without a backwards glance. Blaise's swords disappeared from where they still lay upon the grass, along with his and Draco's brooms, and the guards melted away again, sliding into the shadows under the stands and probably scaling the walls themselves. It made her wonder if they had always been there, lurking out of sight and watching over their masters from a distance.

"Oh shit. What have I done?" Harry asked, and Hermione slowly turned her eyes to him. He looked normal again, pale and shocked, yes, but normal, but a tremor still ran down her spine when she remembered the look in his eyes as he'd swung his sword at Blaise's back. He must have seen what she was thinking, as he stiffened and drew back. "You're _scared _of me? Are you shitting me, 'Mione?" She said nothing, just stared into green eyes that she'd known and loved forever, searching for something that she couldn't name. "Ron?" He asked, turning to his other best friend.

"I…" Ron started, sounding dazed. He looked over at Harry then, and there was a hardness there that she had never seen before. "Why did you _do_ that?" He finally asked, and Harry looked down. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't like Zabini, but Harry…_His back was turned_." He finished, speaking the words as if they meant everything. And in a way, they did. No one spoke, not even the surrounding Slytherins, who were looking quite murderous, as they all waited for his response.

"_I know_." Harry said brokenly, sinking to the ground, his sword and wand both falling from his hands. "I don't know _what _made me do it, I was just so…Lord, what a good way to start off a friendship, eh?" Hermione sucked in a breath, as did quite a few others.

"What friendship?" She asked, wondering if Harry had taken a blow to the head that she hadn't noticed.

"I asked Draco to be my friend." He said in a resigned tone, as if nothing mattered anymore. Everyone stayed stock still, barely daring to breathe as he spoke the impossible.

"That doesn't constitute as a _friendship_, Potter." Melody snapped, her eyes slightly red from crying. Another tear leaked out as they watched, and she kept her head high, as if daring them to mock her grief.

"It does since he said okay!" Harry spat back, the fire returning to his eyes. The Slytherins all backed away a step, as if he'd just said that he'd dug up their Founder's body and preformed lewd acts with it. Pansy recovered first.

"He would _never_ be friends with _you_!" She said in a low, scathing voice. "And if you even _dare _to mention some utter nonsense like that in front of Blaise and Virginia when they come back, I swear to fucking Chaos that you'll regret it." She paused, looking condescendingly thoughtful. "Oh, wait, do you know what would be even _better_? For you to leave entirely. _We_ will keep vigil. There is no need for your kind here."

"_He is my friend!_" Harry countered, and Pansy's hand shot out, backhanding him across the face and knocking him to the ground. The girl's eyes were sparkling menacingly, and she made to kick him when Crabbe and Goyle moved forward, taking her gently and leading her away a few feet, shielding her from the prying eyes surrounding them.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione said, hesitating only a second or two before grabbing his arm and motioning for Ron to take his sword and wand. "I really think we should leave." He didn't protest as she and Ron led him away, and the other students and Professors began trickling away too, leaving the Slytherins and Snape to themselves.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia wasn't thinking as she and Blaise crashed through the trees. She simply let herself be led. She wasn't even sure if Blaise _had_ a certain destination in mind, and she didn't really care. She knew tears were still pouring down her cheeks, as she could feel the cold streaks they made as the wind whipped past her face, the trees on rather side of them nothing but a blur. They went deeper and deeper into the forest, the woods thickening and blocking out the stars and moon completely. Blaise finally began to slow and they broke through a line of leafy weeping willows, coming out in a small, secluded clearing.

It felt like passing through a wall of water, and she knew that there were wards around the place. She could see the stars again, and the grass looked almost gray in the weak light. The clearing was surrounded by the thick, ancient trees, and one of the largest willows she'd ever seen stood proudly in the clearing's center, it's long, trailing branches dragging the ground lightly as they swayed in the wind. Blaise moved straight toward the tree, taking her hand in his, something wild and altogether fey dancing in the deep blue depths of his eyes. He parted the center willow's foliage and swept her through with him, the leaves falling shut again behind them.

The grass was different underneath its leaves, spelled, and it was like sitting on one of those muggle marshmallows that Hermione had let her try. She said nothing, as nothing needed to be said just yet, and simply watched him place a hand on the tree, bowing his head. The bark shimmered away under his touch and his hand disappeared inside the new hole, before reappearing with a large bottle. The cap was gone in seconds and the scarlet liquid was pouring down his throat. She looked a bit closer and realized that it was not wine that he was consuming as if it were water, but _firewhiskey_. Half of the bottle was gone when he finally lowered it, and his eyes were already beginning to glaze.

He handed the bottle to her wordlessly, and she took it, careful not to spill any. Firewhiskey could get anything and anyone drunker than shit. Quickly. That's why it was used sparingly, and usually only on some sort of occasion. If that night didn't qualify, she didn't know what did. Raising the bottle to her lips, she took four or five heavy swallows before lowering it again, the delicious burn snaking through her. She nearly dropped the bottle, however, when she saw him reaching for a second. Most people only needed three or four shots before they were devastatingly smashed, as it was the most potent liquor there was, and he had already downed an entire half of a bottle.

"Is it safe for you to drink more?" She asked lightly, yet seriously, and those indigo eyes met hers again.

"Oui. Mon cadavre brûler il debout vite." Blaise said, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her when she fell against him. ((Yes. My body burns it up quickly.))

"Why did He tell us to wait?" She asked quietly after they'd each had quite a few more swigs of the firewhiskey.

"I don't know." Blaise replied, stroking her hair, his voice beginning to slur a bit. "Cocidius had His reasons, I'm sure." There was the faintest trace of bitterness laced in that silky tone, and she pulled away slightly in order to meet his eyes.

"Do you disagree?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed softly. "How could I not?"

"I wouldn't be the one to ask." She answered morosely. "Seeing as I disagree, too."

"He should not be there alone. He should not be there at all."

"I know." She said, her head falling back to his shoulder. His back was against the tree, and she was between his legs, her own back pressed tightly against his chest. It was like an entire other world within the den of whispering leaves. She could feel the alcohol beginning its work, and she took several more swallows, surprised to find that the bottle was almost empty. Had she really drank that much? She looked over at Blaise's, a giggle instead of the gasp she'd intended escaping her throat when she saw that that one was now over halfway empty as well.

"What amuses you, ma cherí?" Gods, she loved that velvety timbre, loved feeling it soak into her mind and into her skin, loved when it mixed with another that she cherished just as highly…

"Nothing." She said, the giggle turning into a sob as she thought of the other half of her heart and soul trapped in some hellish pit.

"Shh, do not cry, ma soleil. He would not wish for your tears. He will come back to us or we shall go find him." Blaise murmured, draining the rest of his bottle and discarding it before running soothing hands over her arms and down her sides, sending shocks throughout her system and drawing an involuntary moan from her throat.

Her mind was swimming and going numb, the alcohol doing its job beautifully, but the worry and pain were still there, mocking her from the background of her thoughts. Blaise's hand came to a stop on her thigh, the other on her hip, and he whispered endearments and nonsense in French as she shook. Drawing herself together, she finished off the bottle and let it fall carelessly to the grass, the sounds of the night soaking into her, more appealing to her at that moment then the sweetest symphony could ever be. A part of her ached, screamed to be filled, and she knew that she wasn't the only one with similar sentiments.

They both needed him, like two addicts needed a fix, even if it was just to gaze upon his silver hair and icy flesh. They needed each other the same, but then they were both there, weren't they? It was the absence of one of them in general, not a certain one, that wrecked havoc on their emotions. They could still feel him, but it was distant, stretching the Marks farther than they wanted to think about. Blaise's hand twitched slightly and she moaned again, pushing back against him. His breath came out in a hiss, his fingers tightening against her skin, and she felt him grow hard against her. She wriggled again, her breathing beginning to hitch as she sought more friction, sought more of _him_.

"J'ai envie de toi. Fais-moi l'amour." Virginia begged breathlessly, reduced to a trembling mess at his slightest touch once again. In moments like these, the French seemed to spill from her, and she didn't know if it was her urgency or their influence through the Marks, but she didn't care. Because it never failed to make them both insatiable. ((I want you. Make love to me.))

"Avec plaisir." Blaise growled, flipping her around to where she was straddling him. ((With pleasure.))

His lips met hers instantly, electric currents swamping her senses and setting her core on fire. She ground against him, drawing a moan from his throat and biting her own lip hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. His pupils dilated and followed the errant drop as it rolled over her skin, and a feral snarl was her only warning before she found herself on her feet again, her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree and a very welcome mouth devouring hers. He tasted of lemons as he always did, mixed, that night, with the thick liquor, but this kiss was different on both their parts. Their desperation was not of the body but of the soul, as was their need.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid underneath her thighs, easily supporting her weight. His erection ground into her once more and her lips left his to draw in a ragged breath. She pushed back, twisting her hips as her hands went to his robes, and they fell to the floor unheeded. His chest was bare and her eyes ran over it eagerly, soaking up beauty that she sometimes felt was almost too perfect to touch, as if she'd mar it somehow. She held no such reservations at the moment, however, and savored the sound of his groan as she drew sharp nails down his skin. She lapped the charged blood from his chest, the taste of him leaking into every pore.

Her own robes were discarded within a moment, in a single, smooth move, and he growled as he saw that she wore nothing underneath them but a matching set of dark, green silk underwear. The cold air hit her skin, bringing rushing images of Draco to her mind's eye, and she caught Blaise's mouth with her own again as she felt the tears once more rising in her throat. His hand fisted in her hair hard enough to sting, and she moaned again, purposely running her tongue over one of his sharp canines and letting the sweet elixir fill their mouths. His hands went to her breasts, the silk falling away at his touch, and the first hard squeeze on her nipple had her gasping and writhing.

"Baise-moi." She gasped out, freeing his straining member and wrapping one fist around it tightly. His beautiful eyes fluttered, and she let her hand heat up as she began moving it up and down his length. ((Fuck me.))

"Être celle quoi vous vouloir, beau? Pour moi à foutre vous jusqu'à ce que vous ne pas savoir crier de nouveau?" He asked huskily, and she was glad that she wasn't standing, for that tone and those elegant, smutty words would have surely made her knees give out. ((Is that what you want, beautiful? For me to fuck you until you can't scream anymore?))

As it was, she merely singed the last strip of silk from her skin with a thought, guiding him to her entrance and once more begging throatily in French when he paused, running that satiny head over her most sensitive places and driving her absolutely insane. He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound that nearly undid her, but she knew that she heard the faintest trace of a sob of his own, and understood that he wished as much as she did that another was with them, matching his movements. But then he was inside her with one quick, rough thrust, and she couldn't think at all anymore as the first scream was ripped from her, him filling her completely, as if she had been molded and made for them in mind.

Every sense, every inch of her body, was enveloped in burning need and electric impulses, and his lips caught hers once more. That kiss was hungry, needy, driven by their spirits while their minds sat back and rode the waves of pleasure sweeping through them. He pulled almost all of the way back out of her and she whimpered, shoving her hips forward and sheathing him inside her once more when he made no move to continue, and that chuckle rolled over her skin again. That was the last of the laughter, though, as all turned into teeth and skin, moans and thrusts, their passion rising with their voices and mingling with the chilled night air.

Their coupling was ecstasy tinged with sorrow, love tinged with loss, and it made it all the more bittersweet and beautiful. He took both of her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head and effectively pinning her to the tree, and the purple was beginning to shine within the irises of his eyes as he drove in and out of her with more force than a normal human could have endured. It was pure rapture for her, however, and she slammed back into him just as hard, her screams growing in intensity as her stomach began to tighten. And when a phantom tongue slid over her clit, sending shocks into her very bones, her control collapsed and the pleasure exploded.

When she could finally open her eyes again, they met Blaise's knowing ones as his pace slowed but continued steadily, and the dark knowledge in them had her muscles tightening around him again almost immediately. Those eyes promised her everything, those eyes held a soul that knew just how to touch her, when and where, and those eyes showed a hunger long from satisfied. A wicked grin stole across his lips, and he tilted his hips, hitting her _there_ and earning another scream for his efforts. That phantom tongue continued its ministrations, but slowly and lazily, quite like the one who controlled it, and she felt herself rising to an even higher peak.

Blaise's lips and hands were everywhere, and she found it momentarily strange to have only two hands on her instead of four. Her eyes lifted to Blaise's and she saw the same thought running behind those cerulean orbs. Kissing him ravenously, their pace picked up once more, and she finally broke her mouth away, baring her neck to his gaze and letting nature and desire do the rest. _Oh sweet gods…_Those delectable fangs slid into her flesh, hot, sharp pain lancing through her deliciously right before the ambrosial pleasure had her in its grip. She had no idea how long they stayed like that, grinding and dying in bliss, and she couldn't have cared less.

His fangs finally left her as their bodies simultaneously tightened, and the only thing that kept them from their usual heights was the absence of the one that they seemed to crave more than ever. Tears were streaming down both their faces as their bodies shook with a long, continuous orgasm, and they mixed on each other's cheeks as their mouths sought one another out desperately. Their kiss tasted of salt and blood, the tastes intertwining as their souls intertwined, and they both screamed his name at the end, falling bonelessly to the ground and clutching each other tightly as they shook with heart wrenching sobs, wanting only one thing. To be complete again.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise didn't know how long they lay together upon the soft grass, didn't know how long their souls cried out for one who couldn't answer, and he only vaguely remembered calling in a blanket to cover them when the cold air brought too many memories with it. They held onto each other as if they feared the other would vanish just as Draco had vanished, and neither complained at the choking grips. They had heard nothing from Cocidius since His orders to wait and not kill Potter, and their patience was growing thin as their anger grew thicker. Over and over he saw Draco fall into oblivion within the portal of his making, knocked there by Potter's errant swing.

And in Blaise's mind, the bastard might as well have pushed him in.

"Blaise?" Virginia questioned softly, and he propped himself up on one elbow to better look at her.

"Oui?"

"Are you going to fight Harry anyway?" She asked, her dark eyes narrowed slightly as they scrutinized a leaf to his left, obviously feeling the undercurrent of his thoughts. Lifting one of her corkscrew curls with his free hand, he wrapped it around his finger as he thought his answer through.

"I meant what I said." He finally replied. "If Dray dies, so will he."

"Oh, I know that." She said, lifting her eyes to meet his, and the look of utter depravity in them very nearly had him ravishing her again. "I meant if Draco lives. Which he will." She hesitated, and her voice grew distant and small. "Right?"

"Oui, ma âme." Blaise told her, laying a light kiss upon her brow. "He will be…" Now it was his turn to hesitate. He had promised not to lie to her, and as much as he wanted to finish that sentence with 'fine', he couldn't. Her hand grabbed his, her nails digging into his skin.

"He will be _what_?"

"He will be alive." Blaise said, squeezing her hand back. "That is all that truly matters."

"Yes." She agreed, imagined horrors racing behind her eyes. Trying to lighten her mood, he remembered an incident that he had always found quite amusing, and one that hadn't ended in any disturbing punishment, which was rare. It was a slight moment in their lives, one without any true bearing or significance, just a childish moment of revenge, and he was pretty sure that that was why he'd thought of it.

"Do you know what Draco did once when we were little?" He asked her, brushing her fiery hair back from her face. Her look turned inquisitive, and he allowed himself a small, if strained, smile.

"What?"

"We were no more than three, I believe, when it happened." He started, his smile becoming a bit more genuine. "He was so angry over something trivial, Lucius had taken his broomstick or some such, and he stormed around the Manor for an entire day, not giving the subject a rest. He was determined to have revenge, and our mothers found it adorable. I don't think they thought that he would really do anything about it, so they humored him. I knew that he would, though, and offered to help him. He actually told me no, that he didn't want me in trouble too when it was over."

"And you _listened_?" Virginia asked, slightly incredulous. Blaise's eyes sparked, and he ran smoothly calloused fingertips down her cheek.

"He tricked me." He said with a smirk, and her eyes widened, a slight laugh escaping her. "He said he would need me to save him from whatever happened as a result. Another day passed, but he did nothing, nor did he mention it again. Our fathers called us into Lucius's study that night for our lessons, and it all went as well as could be hoped for at first. Then Draco stood and said he wanted to show them something he had learned."

"Oooh, I've heard _that _before." Virginia said, raising an eyebrow. "And not just from _him_." She gave him an accusing glance, and his smirk grew wider.

"Yes, well, _I _had nothing to do with this. They both gave him leave, and he called in a house elf, whispering to it before it disappeared. It came back a moment later with a heavy, crystal tumbler full of green dye, and one of Narcissa's hairpins. He then explained to them, with every ounce of the three years of dignity he had by then acquired, that he could pin the glass to the wall without any magic, using only that hairpin."

"What? How on earth did he manage that?" Virginia asked, genuinely puzzled as she tried to figure out a way that that could work. Blaise snickered.

"Well, he went to the wall and Lucius followed him to make sure that he didn't do a quick charm. My f…Jeran and I stayed on one of the couches, but we could still see as Draco lifted the glass and hairpin, fiddling with them. He dropped the pin, and with the most angelic expression that I've ever seen, sweetly asked Lucius to pick it up for him since he was standing on a chair and would have had to get down. Lucius obliged him, and when he bent down to pick up the pin, Draco dumped the entire tumbler over his head."

"Oh gods, he _didn't_!" Virginia gasped out after she had stopped laughing, then her eyes widened again. "Wait, didn't you say it was…"

"Full of green dye?" Blaise supplied with a slow, feline grin. "Yes, yes I did."

"And Lucius didn't…"

"Murder something? I'm sure he probably did. And Draco wouldn't have gotten off nearly as easily had he not bolted immediately, the tumbler falling from his hands as he jumped off the chair and hitting Lucius in the head. I barely got away from Jeran to chase after him, and he'd gone straight to our mothers' rooms. They were appalled at first, until Lucius burst in with forest green hair and aqua skin. Then they found it all quite hilarious, as did Severus. Narcissa told him that it was very _Slytherin_."

"What did Lucius do?" She asked, her tone clearly stating that she was expecting the worst.

"Cher un, look at me." Blaise said, and her eyes turned back to his warily. "He did _nothing_, love. You seem to be forgetting something fundamental."

"And that would be?"

"We were only three, darling. Our mothers still had all paternal rights. We didn't become our fathers' until our forth birthdays."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Gods, how she wanted to ask more, to ask what that forth birthday must have been like when their mothers were no longer the safe buffers that they had been. She wanted to ask about the other years afterwards, the years that had made that cold, dark place inside them both so frighteningly real and feral. She wanted to ask exactly what had made them so jaded, so haunted, but she was terrified of what they might tell her. It didn't matter though, her own fear, that is. All that mattered was trying to alleviate even a little bit of that hate off their souls. The darkness would always be there, not that she would change it for the world, but the festering hate was another story.

But how could she help them with that when she hated their fathers herself? She hadn't been afraid of hearing those tales from their lips until two weeks ago. Two weeks ago when she had first woken up screaming, nearly giving the both of them heart attacks, gibbering about dank cells and chains that burned. They had known something was really wrong when she had seen them and screamed louder, her eyes fogged with tears. All she had remembered was seeing their hair and being taken right back into her dream. They had woken her fully and she had broken down, distorted images of them bleeding still spinning through her mind.

It hadn't happened every night since, and she had a strong feeling it was because they were shielding her sleep, but it did occur every few days. And it had stirred a degree of loathing in her that she hadn't thought possible. How any parent could _do_ the things that she had seen was beyond her, but she didn't pity them for it. However horrible, it had made them who they were, and she couldn't imagine a world without them. A different childhood would have been preferable, yes, but they wouldn't have been the same people by a long shot. Looking back up at Blaise, she strengthened her resolve. If they could live it, the least she could do was relive it, however traumatizing it turned out to be for her.

"You will explain my dreams to me later?" She asked, half-question, half-statement. When he didn't answer, she continued. "You can't shield me from everything, you know. Some pain is necessary."

"I know." He said simply, rising to his knees. "Come, ma soleil, let us get dressed." When she just looked at him, he smirked again. "Do you want to go look for our prince or not?" He teased, and she bolted upright. ((my sun))

"Now? Really?" She asked anxiously.

"Yes, now. We shall have to be quick, and silent. The Ezutîël wait in the trees. They know me too well." He said, referring to the nine guards that were almost surely surrounding the clearing. A sudden thought seized her.

"I meant to ask you…what _are_ they?"

"They are many things." Blaise replied, pulling his robes on as she did the same. "If you're asking what they were originally, then the answer is Sidhe." She stared.

"I knew they smelt strange," she said eventually, "but _elves_?"

"True elves, yes. But that was centuries ago. Now they are…more."

"Centuries ago? How old are they?"

"They remember when the altars ran pure and the gods sung the masses to sleep." He said, standing, and she took his offered hand, rising to her own feet.

"But there were ten before you and Draco forged them together."

"Oui." A brief look of pain flashed across his face, quickly stifled. "Arentuil was killed the night our fathers died." She said nothing, as words would not have helped, and rose up on her toes, planting a firm kiss upon his full lips. "Complete silence now, ma âme. We must shadowmelt. Speak only through the Marks." He said as they crept from underneath the tree, and she nodded her agreement.

They slid from shadow to shadow, virtually invisible, a trick that the two of them had taught her not too long ago, and one that she loved. They passed the wards and took to the trees, Blaise sensing his guards out and leading her around them in the heavy blackness. They made not a sound as they leapt from branch to branch, disturbing nothing so much as a twig, and when they had a close call, they stopped breathing all together. Continuing their forward path, they passed by the last guard stealthily, and were able to move much faster after that. The tree line came into view after a short while, and they slowed, stopping on a thick limb just beyond the Quidditch stands.

_'The other Slytherins and Severus do not sleep.' _Blaise observed, his eyes focused on nothing as he listened to what the night whispered in his ears.

_'I know. How do you want to get past them?'_

_'Directly. When we reach the stands, conjure a cord like the one Draco used to keep you two together in Reverie and attach it to the stone divider. Put the other end on your ankle. It will lead us back out.'_

_'Alright. Let's go.' _She said, and they hit the grass lightly, sprinting quickly to the wall and climbing it easily, dropping onto the pitch and disappearing once more into the shadows. They went to the nearest divider and Blaise laid a hand upon it, speaking the spell softly and slowly so that she could imitate it, and a purple cord snaked out of the wall and around his ankle. He ran a hand through the cord to confirm that it wouldn't be impeding his movements, and she copied his words, feeling a cuff wrap around her own leg.

_'Good work.' _He said, inspecting her cord as he had his, and she felt a flash of pride. They had taught her much already, but when she pulled something like that off, she still felt slightly elated. The cords were advanced Dark magick, she knew that much, and it gave her the same thrill as always.

_'Now what?'_

_'We run.' _He said, a devilish grin curving his lips.

Their Marks tingled and their grins grew wider. They had His consent, then. Taking off across the field, they streaked straight towards the group of Slytherins just as the Ezutîël appeared over the wall, rushing towards them from all sides. The Slytherins jumped to their feet, trying to form a living barrier around the portal, but she and Blaise didn't slow their progress. It was now or never. They got closer and closer, and when they were less five or six yards from hitting the line of black and green clad bodies dead on, Blaise grabbed her hand and they jumped. They sailed over the Slytherins' heads, just missing one of the guard's outstretched hands, and turned, diving headfirst into the utter blackness that led to their love.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The first thing that Draco was aware of was that he was falling. Fast. That and there was no light whatsoever, just living, breathing darkness speeding past him on all sides. Internally sighing, he resigned himself to whatever was going to be on the other end, hoping that he'd at least have time to call in his blades. He could smell the demon stench left in the passage or tunnel or whatever it was that he was traveling in, and as time slowly passed he began to sense it waiting at the bottom. It knew he was coming. _Great. _That was just what he needed. A severely pissed off Deep Lord. So he started to think of a plan, seeing as he doubted that he could pull off another shift so soon after being healed.

But the path veered suddenly, and the demon's shout of fury echoed around him as he was sucked in a different direction. Curious, he wondered what had changed his trajectory, and an image of the Low Lord swirled in his mind. _Oh, wouldn't that just be the absolute best, _he thought dryly, right before he was spit out and into a brightly lit room. He landed agilely, looking up and immediately becoming suspicious. It was no hellish pit that he was faced with, but an enormous room, done all in white, silver and gold, and it reminded him of a cathedral. Angels and gods alike were painted in moving murals along the walls, which glittered like diamonds.

There weren't any furnishings, or any other decoration at all, but it stilled seemed majestic in a very…_white _way. Feeling more than a bit blinded and completely out of place, he looked around cautiously, waiting for the venom behind the beauty. Something flickered to his right and a viewing glass appeared, a large, oval sheet of quartz that hovered in midair. Images flashed randomly across the surface, before settling and showing him the Quidditch pitch and the portal he had been knocked into. Two streaks suddenly crossed the field, attached to glowing cords, and he saw his guards appear, trying to stop them. He wanted so badly to stop them himself, but could do nothing as they entered the portal.

"Love drives people to extremes at times, does it not, Draco?" A celestial voice said out of nowhere and everywhere, and he spun, his senses scanning the room. But there was nothing.

"Where are you?" He growled, staying perfectly still.

"Here." The voice intoned vaguely, and he felt his temper fraying.

"Show yourself!" He demanded, calling in his swords.

"You have no need for weapons here, child." The voice tsked motherly. "And you could not look fully upon me and still live." The force of life ran in that smooth tone, and his suspicions on the speaker grew more solid.

"I am not your child."

"Everything is a child of mine." The voice replied, a hint of eternal laughter ringing in the suddenly feminine timbre. There were only two beings that could truthfully claim that statement, and he knew which one it definitely was _not_, so that left only one choice. "So you recognize me now, do you, dragon?"

"The Lady of the Sun, the Dawn Star, Aurora Incarnate, Mother of all that is White and Good, the Light Personified." He said formally, listing Her titles and trying to figure out what in the fuck _She_ could possibly want with _him_.

"It gladdens me to see a son of mine still so well versed in the old ways. I take it that you know of my sister then?" The Lady asked, and he refrained himself from rolling his eyes. Of course he did. How could he not? He had worshiped at Her sister's altars his entire life, but never at Hers.

"The Lady of the Moon, Twilight's Pride, Night Incarnate, Mother of all that is Dark and Primordial, the Darkness Personified." He listed dutifully, and that sweet, high laugh echoed through the room once more.

"Wonderful! But you are here for a reason, as I'm sure you've guessed."

"Well, I didn't think you just wanted to chat, at any rate, my lady." He said more sarcastically then he had at first intended, but Her voice alone was grating on his nerves like shards of broken glass.

"I sensed you falling into the demon plane." She said, sunshine and all things pretty and delicate leaking from Her every word. "And then your…_lovers_." The last was said somewhat disapprovingly, and he felt like screaming. Maybe this _was_ Tartarus. It sure as fuck seemed like it.

"Where are they?" He asked, forgetting her title, but he received no answer. "_Where are they?_"

"That will be revealed in time, young one." The Lady finally responded, and Draco wondered how She would take it if he began ripping his hair out by the fistfuls.

Gods, what was _wrong _with him? He could barely stand hearing Her voice, and the thought of Her actually appearing with some sappy, loving smile and yellow daisies crowning Her head made him feel slightly claustrophobic and ill. He didn't know if that's what She would choose to look like or not, but it was the way She'd always been described, and he'd rather not find out at all. Every inch of him simply wanted away from Her beaming cheerfulness and Her pure, bright aura that seemed to permeate the very walls. Breathing shallowly, as Her light seemed suddenly and frighteningly contagious, he resolved that he'd do whatever She wanted as long as She'd let him leave. Soon.

"So what am I here for, my lady?" He asked, and he swore he could taste sun soaked grass on the air around him. It invaded his mouth and throat, and he nicked his tongue, letting his blood drown out the unappealing flavor.

"A choice." She said, and wariness filled him. Choices were typically bad. But this was the Lady of the Light. It couldn't be too horrible.

"And why should you care for any choice that I make, my lady?" He asked, honestly curious. He wasn't one of Her followers, never had been, and She knew that as well as he did. He used Her title out of respect for his god and devotion to the _true_ Lady only.

"Because this one will affect all." She replied, Her voice growing slightly subdued, like a cloud briefly passing over the sun.

"All?" He questioned, the situation quickly taking a turn for the worse. "All of what, my lady? Or should I say whom?"

"Both." The Lady said, Her voice happy and shrill once more. "It shall affect all that lives." _Not good. So, so not good, _he thought to himself. Because if this was going to be a choice of morals, he would almost certainly fail in _Her_ eyes.

"And why should my choice be help or hindrance to so many, my lady?"

"Because I will it so." She said, the first hint of steel creeping into Her tone. "I have foreseen it. The vision must be recognized and completed."

"Well, since you put it that way, my lady." He said, his voice soft and even, while inside he was anything but calm. A vision. A vision from the Dawn Star. _Not good. _She was right, though; a vision from either Lady could not be ignored without many…unpleasant mishaps, or so the legends said.

"I knew you would understand!" She said in a tinkling voice that was meant to evoke happy memories of summer picnics and family outings, but he simply didn't possess any, nor did he particularly wish to. Feeling a headache building behind his eyes, he allowed himself an inaudible groan. He needed _out_. And preferably as far away as he could feasibly get from _Her_.

"So what does this choice involve, my lady?"

"You are familiar with the Bane of the World, yes?" She asked, and he stiffened. _The Bane…_Yes, he knew what She spoke of. It was everything evil, not dark, but strictly _evil_, that plagued their world, the Shadow Realm. It was everything that was foul and twisted and _wrong _with the earth, everything that was diseased, sick, tainted…

"Yes." He hissed, instantly on the defensive at the mention of that, that…_abomination_.

"Would you see it destroyed?" She inquired quietly, and he said nothing, not knowing if his answer would seal his choice before he even truly got to make one. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and spoke words of reassurance. "Your response affects nothing, my son." But they didn't reassure him in the slightest. All they did was make him really wish She wouldn't call him that.

"I would." He said after a while. "Depending on the circumstances, my lady." _There, She should be able to take the hint, _he thought_. Maybe She'll give me the ultimatum now_.

"All good deeds require sacrifices." She scolded, and he couldn't bite back the snarl in his voice as he replied.

"That's why I don't dabble in good deeds, my lady. If you want sacrifices, get yourself a Gryffindor."

"Do not think I cannot see the hate you hold for it inside you." She whispered, Her voice echoing strangely. "Do not think I am not aware that the Bane is what infected and ruined your father." She might as well have stabbed him. The wound that he'd thought he'd lanced long ago burst open, the rage and betrayal he'd locked and froze inside himself thawing, hitting hard and fast and leaving him breathless. So much for the Light's kindness.

"_What do you want?_" He screamed, losing all control as something within him snapped.

"Your choice." Chiming bells, that time, but they were simply metal hitting metal inside his pounding head. _Damn Her_, he thought furiously. _Damn Her and Her choices, damn Her and Her sunlit meadows, damn Her and Her false, pitying sweetness!_

"Then give me the rest of it!"

"As you wish." She said, and something began forming to his left, opposite the viewing glass.

He turned, almost fearing what he would see, and when the shapes solidified, he realized that he had every reason to fear it. Blaise hung lifelessly from davascian chains, the only metal that could hold their kind, and his body had been ravaged by demon whips, just as it had been so many years ago. Virginia didn't look much better, the same chains pinning her to the wall, and they were both covered in bruises as well as the long, telltale gashes. It seemed that they had not taken a detour in the portal as he had. It was a scene directly from his nightmares, and he could feel his stomach begin to twist and turn violently.

He went to them on shaky feet, falling to his knees beside them and feeling his heart rip open. He could hear their pulses, faint but there, and he reached out, running fingers through Blaise's blood-matted hair. Everything around him faded as he checked their wounds and tried to stop the bleeding. But it wouldn't stop, his magick wasn't working right, and he felt panic start to stir within him. His hands were soon drenched in their blood, and he realized with a sudden start of horror that he couldn't activate his Mark. He spun quickly, too quickly, and reopened the wound on his own side, but he didn't pay it the least bit of attention.

"What is the choice?" He demanded, his voice low and deadly, and a sigh seemed to ripple through the room.

Instead of a verbal answer, the portal once more came to life, and he watched a string of images silently. A child; stolen and murdered in the dead of night. A mother; lost in grief, broken and sobbing. A woman; beaten and raped, left for dead. The same, but a father and a man. An elderly couple walking through the park; robbed and murdered viciously, without any sort of remorse. A road in the middle of a city; lined with bodies in the style of the ancient Romans, crows and ravens eating them as they screamed. The images came faster and faster, shards and bits of evil that had cloaked the centuries, before slowing and coming to a sudden halt. And just as suddenly, he realized what She wanted of him.

"No!" He said, rising to his feet in one quick movement. "You cannot ask this of me!"

"I must." She replied, Her voice tinted with sadness. "Your choice is this, dragon of bad faith. You can take them, try to save them; although after what they've been experiencing for what to them has felt like days, they might not forgive you for bringing them back. But you can take that path if you wish, and let the Bane spread, eat, destroy...Or, you can destroy the Bane and the ever growing sickness, destroy that which stole your fathers from you, and your lovers shall die in peace, remembering nothing of their last hours." The words slammed into his soul, and he took a stumbling step backwards.

"No." He repeated, his voice little more than a whisper, but the Lady took no heed of him.

"Which do you choose?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review! They are the very air I breathe and my continued inspiration!

Note: Have no fear, the Ladies will be explained farther, I promise! Hope you liked the bit of sorrowsex! lol


	14. Descent Pt 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Author's Note**: When speaking of the gods, I capitalize 'He' and 'She' and such, but only when someone other then themselves are referring to them. If a god is referring to itself or one of its brethren, 'he' and 'she' are lower case, unless it involves the Ladies. Just to clear up any confusion!

**Other Note**: You may have noticed that I haven't been translating the small pet names and the word 'yes' in French in the last chapter or two, and it was because I figure you know those by now since I've used them quite a bit. If anyone has any serious complaints about this, let me know and I'll start doing the common ones again.

**Responses to reviewers for the last chap**: **tkmoore**, oh, sweet goddess, I am once more at your feet. That stuff about Blaise…(sniffles) You're too good to me! **Jan**, their guards didn't want to lose both, they knew how dangerous it was. Might be explained farther, I'm not sure yet. lol. **cloaked**, I just love you! (kisses!) **seri-chan**, me and you think way too much alike! lol. And that Spiderman crack had me laughing forever! **Chaney**, me and you also think too much alike! Thanks for the cool review! **resentment**, okay. I hope you had fun going…wherever it is that you went. **RavenClawson**, thanks! **little-munchkin-poo**, hope this meets with your approval! **Bome**, thank you so much. You have no idea how much that means to me. **Quartz**, thank you! **Midnight's Rainstorm**, behold happiness. (well, mostly. sort of.) lol. **Meryl12**, hope this was soon enough! **musiclover86**, thanks! **Akasha**, I'm honored and thank you! **Shelby**, the next chapter (not so much this one) should satisfy your question, I hope! **angelfire33**, behold the Draco-goodness! lol. **ColeForever16**, THANK YOU! **short arse**, quite evil. :) **xxbabysparklesxx**, thanks! **Jaxindi**, well, it's before Thursday! lol. **aoi-yuki-yume**, have I mentioned that I adore you and your reviews? Thanks! **SamiJo06**, thank you! **Shadow Psi**, thanks! **Leeta1**, thank you! **Evilkitty51**, hehehe…that _was _great, wasn't it? lol. **a.sam**, love you, as always! **TarynMalfoy88**, hope you like this one! **Iced Faerie**, thanks! **power of the stars**, wouldn't we all like to choose 'or'? lol. **babykelyse**, another reviewing goddess! (bows) Now, to the story, and if I forgot anyone, sorry!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Cocidius watched. Fuming and more angry then he could remember being in a very long time, he watched as that damnable Lady meddled with his Chosen, spinning Her web as effectively as always. He had been seconds from snatching his silver prince out of the portal when She had interfered, and his rage could be felt throughout the Dark Realm. Mars, Ares and quite a few of the others he called friend had arrived shortly afterwards, but they had not been able, nor very much inclined, to soothe him. They detested the gleaming Lady as much as he did, and none of them took kindly to Her occasional bouts of interference.

Time moved strangely in the Underworld, and what to Draco had felt like moments had been much longer in the Shadow Realm. Already furious, Cocidius had very nearly exploded when She had gone so far as to take his remaining Chosen from his grasp as well. But as he watched Her work Her confusion spells on them, as he watched Her have the same conversation with his two princes and one remarkably similar, yet different, with his flame-haired vixen, his friends began to wonder if they could stop him when his control finally eroded. Or if they would even try. The Lady had gone too far this time.

One deity, even one of the Ladies, didn't just abduct another deity's Chosen on a whim. Yes, Her vision was important, but there was no reason for Her not to have informed Cocidius beforehand, and even less of one for Her to cut his Chosen off from their Marks, which is a feat no one else but Cocidius himself or the other Lady could have done. But when She gave them their choice and laid illusions of each other before them, while they were none the wiser of her duplicity, Cocidius became eerily silent and still. Mars moved up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist, but the other made no indication that he even knew Mars was there.

"She will not take them from me." He said suddenly, breaking his silence and causing quite a few of his friends to jump. "She abhors me as much as I do Her. What else could She hope to gain but their deaths by putting the three of them through the same ordeal, with the same choice?"

"She is still the Light, my friend." Ares said hesitantly from his other side. "She must have a purpose."

No more words were spoken as Cocidius opened his connection with his three beloved Chosen to the fullest extent that he could, although they were not aware of it. He readied himself as their thoughts swirled madly; prepared himself to unleash everything he had upon the Lady's wards if She carried through with this deception. He felt their initial resistance, felt them ready themselves to tell Her no, but Her confusion charms were too strong. Their attention went back to the illusions they believed to be their lovers, and their pain swamped him, causing his ire to sharpen into a deadly point. Her spell was working just as intended, and their determination wavered.

Because they each believed Her lies. They believed Her because they knew as well as any the distortion of time where they were. They believed Her because She clouded their thoughts, because She wouldn't let them access their Marks for confirmation. They believed that the ones they cherished above all else had spent what seemed like days in the Deep Lord's clutches. Two of them knew what an extended visit like that could do to the strongest person's mind, and the other could only imagine, horrid images running through her head. It was absurd, of course, since that Deep Lord was currently chained, whimpering, to his parlor wall.

But his Chosen, his precious, precious Chosen, knew that not. As much as they wanted to save their dying loves, they feared bringing them back and having them heal, yet stay broken in a way much worse than that of the body. They feared earning their hate for forcing them to live with so much torment. They feared bringing them back only to have them become grisly, macabre shells, mere echoes of what they once were. He could also feel their hate of the Bane. Draco's went deep, as did Blaise's; both had intimate experience with that most twisted of creations. Both had fought off its foul touch when their sires had tried to damn them as they themselves were damned.

And Virginia loathed it because she had grown up her entire life hearing it talked about in nothing more than disgust-filled whispers, decrying its evil. And they all loathed it not only because of its taint on the land's people, but also because of its taint on the land itself. That was something that most witches and wizards, whether they be dark or light, abhorred down to their very cores. The Lady played on those feelings, played on those primal instincts to protect the Realm that housed them, and their minds began to break under the strain. She used their love and fear against them in an unforgivable way, and Cocidius snapped.

Calling on every bit of energy he possessed, drawing it to him a ferocious rush, he paid no heed to his friends' exclamations of shock and threw it all at the Lady's wards. But he did not attack as he had first planned, did not try to hit _Her_, but instead aimed it down his link to his Chosen, breaking through the dazed, devious fog enveloping their minds in one savage thrust. Full alertness came back to them with a jolt, awareness filling their eyes as he poured his divinity into them in a continuous stream. The Marks on their arms flared to life and they each drew in deep, ragged breaths. Cocidius distantly felt Mars shaking him and screaming for him to stop, but he had no intention of doing so.

That Dawn Star _bitch_ was not taking the ones he had fought so hard for, was not taking those who had given him life once again. They were utterly loyal to him, he knew that, knew that they would die for him, in his name, should he ask it of them. But the ties of the Marks went both ways, and he would not do any less for them. Gods could not be killed, true, but one learned after an endless eternity that there were worse things than death and oblivion. Crossing one of the Ladies was not particularly wise, even for the High Kings and Queens, but he was willing to take the risk for them. Besides, many would say that Falling from Heaven was unwise, but he would still do it again.

He felt it as his Chosens' thoughts shifted, as they weighed the situation from a clear perspective, and his spirit sang with triumph. They still believed their lovers held prisoner, as the bitch was somehow blocking him from revealing everything to them, and he just hoped it was enough. Because if they chose to let each other Pass, She would hold them to it even though none of them had been so much as touched thus far. So he stayed silent as they viewed the situation from all angles, and he felt a surge of pride at their careful consideration and estimation. He also felt a surge of a different sort, only to be suddenly revitalized by an outpouring of familiar power.

He looked up briefly, giving Mars a thankful nod, before his attention went immediately back to his Chosen. They knew what most would expect of them in such a situation. They knew that most would tell them to end their lovers' agony, to destroy the world's Bane. They knew that it was the right thing to do, the noble thing to do. They knew that it would end much suffering, that it would allow the land to finally heal. That last called to them strongly, as it would to any of their kind. And their ties to the land were stronger then most, turning the usually gentle call into a siren's song. As one, they came to a decision, and their voices flowed out in perfect unison, though they knew it not.

"I would see the Bane destroyed." They said, and Cocidius heard Mars suck in a resigned breath, as if he'd seen the same before and had known what they would choose.

"Is that your decision?" The Lady asked, Her voice cheery and bright, as if She weren't condemning three of his Chosen to their deaths.

"No." They replied as one again, and this time Mars' gasp was one of shock, as were the others that sounded behind him.

"_No?_" The Lady asked, Her voice tinged with disbelief.

"No. Not if it means sending them to their deaths. They are stronger then you think; this will not break them. And for them, I would let the world burn and crumble into dust." Those words were slightly choked, and all watching knew how much it cost the three to make such an oath.

"You would be so selfish?" The Lady demanded, all traces of comfort and encouragement gone from Her tone. "You would put your own happiness over that of millions?" She scoffed harshly.

"_Yes!_" They screamed simultaneously. "_I will _not_ forsake them!_"

Cocidius braced himself, ready to take the force of the blow if She attacked, but the Lady merely laughed. Cocidius and the watching gods froze. They knew that laugh. And it wasn't the Lady of Light's. No, it was a deep, feline purr, darkly feminine and impossibly sensual. It tingled over their skin, crept into their souls, and all resistance buckled as the gods and Chosen alike fell to their knees. Everything around them faded, the white halls disappearing as the void seeped in and covered all. Faint specks were the first things to reappear, growing stronger until they seemed surrounded by stars and complete, velvety blackness.

His Chosen started as they looked up and saw each other whole, the illusions gone with the brightly lit room. They were dressed identically in long, sweeping robes of impossibly black material that seemed to eat up the starlight. The robes molded to their figures perfectly, drawing the eye to their lithe forms and sleek muscles. They were buttoned up the front with small, ebentine buttons, and there was no telltale bulge of a bandage under Draco's robes, the Lady seeming to have healed him in those dark moments. The front of their hair on either side of their faces had been elaborately braided, while the rest flowed freely down their backs, shimmering in the low light.

A heavy presence lingered all around them, but they could only sense Her, not see Her as the gods could. The gods who watched Her with rapt, devoted eyes as She slid in and out of form, Her beauty and grace incomparable. No denizen of the Shadow Realm could look upon Her and live, but many would deem the sacrifice worth it. She was all that was dark, all that was fierce. She was passion and pride, love and lust, rage and destruction. She truly was the darkness personified; She was the mother of the void itself. None compared to Her, though Her sister vainly tried.

"Well done, Chosen of my Chosen." She crooned softly, sending shivers down their spines and drawing moans from their throats. Everything about Her was seductive and alluring to those drawn to darkness, without Her even trying. She was their goddess, their true mother. She was glorious. _Twilight's Pride_.

"Great One." His Chosen intoned, but there was no mockery in their voices, only awe and devotion.

"You chose well." She said lazily, and black streamers stretched out from the starry walls, reaching for them and caressing them lovingly. Their faces were masks of ecstasy, their eyes darkening as Her power infused them, and they were barely able to form a reply.

"W-We did not anger you, then?" They asked, their vocal symmetry still perfectly intact with the Marks open so wide, and the gods could hear traces of Her voice within their own.

"Far from it." She purred, and Her attention turned to the gods. "Come, Cocidius, will you not greet me?" She asked, and his Chosen turned as he appeared, the wards that had kept him out long gone, and he flew easily towards them.

He briefly touched each of their upturned faces before continuing past them to the impenetrable darkness above that was bereft of so much as a single star. That was where She waited, nothing but twisting shadows to the eyes of his Chosen, but She was everything to him. Long had he followed Her, and he knew Her as well as anyone could ever hope to. She was ever-changing, yet never-changing, protective and malevolent, and She was his Lady. He drew even with Her, and Her power embraced him instantly. He knew nothing but Her for what seemed an eternity, yet when She released him, he thought it over all too soon. She did not send him away, however, but kept him with Her as She turned back to his Chosen.

"You three," She started, Her tone husky and pleased, "and your Lord, did remarkably well. The world does not need more careless heroes. The world needs protectors. And as you proved just now, you will do anything to keep one another from harm."

"But what does that have to do with protecting the world, my lady?" There was such utter reverence in their voices. They reminded Cocidius of himself, and he allowed a small, ironic smile to curve his lips. "We refused its saving grace mere moments ago."

"I know how hard your choice was. I know how the land sings to your blood. You wish to return its vitality almost as much as you desire to keep one another from harm. And as long as your lovers breathe, you will protect the land in order to protect them. It is a cycle, darklings, and one that you are all well equipped for. But this path shall not be forced upon you, nor will it be easy should you choose it."

"And what would be required of us, my lady?" They asked, and Her addictive, sultry laugh was intoxicating.

"Do not fret so, cherished. I am not asking that you look after those too foolish to bow to you. I ask only for the sake of the land and the animals. I do not care overly much for mortals. I find them quite…crude. They abuse what they were given and sworn to protect. But there are some, some that still worship, those with the blood of my divine children. But you three…Much has been Seen regarding you. Had you answered any differently, though...Your destinies would have diminished greatly."

"My lady?" Draco asked suddenly, breaking the chain of simultaneous speech between the three.

"Yes, prince of dragons?" She asked, and he looked slightly startled at the title.

"If we do this, can I _please_ kill Harry Potter?" The question hung in the air, completely heartfelt, and silence covered all for a moment. Then, for the first time in his long acquaintance with Her, Cocidius could have sworn She was actually slightly sheepish as She replied.

"I'm afraid not." She said, and Draco's face fell slightly, as did Blaise's. "But it is not forbidden for you to take justified revenge when necessary." She added, and their spirits lifted a bit again. She laughed softly at their eagerness, and all three trembled visibly in pleasure. "So will you begin healing the earth for me? There will be those who oppose you, and it will not be an easy task. I believe you capable of it, though, and I would not entrust this task to any others." They were silent for long moments, and Cocidius felt them communing with one another. He left their thoughts to themselves, as he had no plans of swaying them one way or the other.

"We would be honored, Lady." They finally responded, and Cocidius smiled, letting them sense his approval.

"So be it." The Lady said, Her throaty, carnal voice leaving them near breathless. "For your willingness and loyalty, I have a gift for you. Consider it a little piece of me to carry with you to help you in the days ahead."

With those words said, the darkness moved in, enclosing everything once more. She drew Cocidius and his Chosen close to Her, and began a rapid descent into the void. What should have crushed and killed his favored ones did not, and he felt a moment of wonder. She had spoken literally, then, and had truly given them a great gift. A piece of Herself. He looked closer, past their forms to their cores, and he saw Her darkness latch onto theirs, expanding it and intensifying it beyond what they should have been able to endure. But endure it they did; in fact, they seemed to revel in it, their souls completely rapturous. But still they went deeper.

To his surprise, Cocidius felt his own darkness expanding, and realized it was time. His inheritance was upon him, and he surrendered to it freely. The last of his mother's light spluttered and died, and cold, sweet power rushed in to fill the empty space. It kept coming and coming, and he was vaguely amazed through the rush. No wonder Dagda had so desperately wanted to keep him from this. The Lady swerved suddenly, and they were shooting upwards instead of down. He recognized the scent of the Shadow Realm above them, and realized Her intent. He sent a flicker of a thought to his woozy, power-high Chosen, but they could barely form a coherent thought between them.

Amused, and feeling the Lady's own amusement, he grinned and slowed their progress, as the darkness around him called to him and obeyed him like never before. The Lady's dusky, nebulous laughter echoed around him, and they placed his Chosen quite gently back in their own Realm. Then the Lady coiled around him and dove again, Her body molding against his deliciously. He was shocked when soft, ferocious lips captured his, and his body stirred like never before, pulling his soul along with it. Then She disentangled Herself with liquid grace, nipping his lip sharply with one delicate, razor-sharp fang, and shot off below him. Disappointment and despondency fell over him, until that blessed voice drifted up to him, full of dark promises.

"Long has it been since I have found a worthy lover. Catch me if you can, Consort."

The last words in both sentences struck him like lightning, and a feral smirk twisted his lips. His Lady wished to play? He was more than happy to oblige.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was still an over an hour before dawn when Hermione snuck out of her room, stealing down the stairs and exiting the tower quietly. Technically, she wouldn't get in trouble for being out so late (or should she say early?), since she was Head Girl, but she tried to be as discreet as possible anyway. She didn't really want to answer Filch's questions on where she was headed. She had her heavy cloak wrapped tightly around her to ward off the cold, and had forgone her house shoes in favor of her winter boots. The freezing air hit her hard, and her cheeks were burning within moments. It was snowing again, and it made her trek to the pitch all the more difficult.

She slowed as she approached, and by then her fingers and face were completely numb. She could see the group of Slytherins still around the open portal, far enough back not to be in any danger. Most were still awake and looked warm enough, which irked her quite a bit considering her miserable state. The nine guards were standing around them, their hooded faces trained towards the portal. She wondered if they'd moved at all lately, considering that snow had built up on their shoulders and robes. She moved closer, not watching where she was going, and slipped on a patch of ice. A small, high shriek escaped her as she landed hard on her butt.

"_Granger?_" Anton's voice questioned somewhat incredulously, barely concealed laughter in his tone. Already embarrassed, she felt her cheeks flame up even through their numbness, and she could hear footsteps approaching from in front of her.

"What on earth are you doing?" Pansy asked from above her, and Hermione stared at the bottom of her robes, desperately trying to come up with something to say. "You're too curious for your own good, you know that?" The girl continued, and Hermione latched onto that, trying to change the subject.

"Maybe." She said, getting to her feet slowly. She really didn't want to look up, as she was sure that Blaise, at least, would know the real reason for her being there. But she made herself anyway, and was surprised when she didn't see him or Ginny anywhere. "Where are they?" She blurted, and Pansy and Anton exchanged looks, knowing who she meant.

"Oh, you know, places." Anton said dismissively, and Hermione sighed, seeing she wasn't going to get more out of them. "I'm more interested in what _you're_ doing here. And without your faithful protectors." He added with a suggestive leer, and she backed away a step in spite of herself, her face heating again.

"Oh, how cute." Pansy drawled, obviously still in a foul mood. "The little mudblood's _blushing_." Laughter trickled from behind her from the listening Slytherins. "Maybe she fancies you, Anton."

"I do not!" Hermione said indignantly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, I don't think she does." Anton surprisingly agreed. "But I know who she _does_ fancy." Mocking 'Oooohs' and 'Ahhhs' came from his Housemates, and she started to rethink this whole idea.

"I wonder who _that _could be?" One Slytherin called sarcastically. "_Do_ tell us, Anton, dear." He nodded, and started in a low, secretive whisper.

"Well, he has hair of silver, eyes of steel!"

"No, _really_?" The Slytherins chorused back, thoroughly enjoying Hermione's horror.

"Yes! Who know what secrets they might reveal?"

"Secrets…" The Slytherins hissed.

"She loves him though he loves her not…"

"Poor thing." They crowed, barely stifling their laughter.

"'Tis a love she never should have sought!"

"Never, never!"

"She toys with fire and with thunder…"

"Does she wish to die?"

"The cause of her death will leave none to wonder…"

"Toyed with fire, toyed with thunder!"

They couldn't hold it back anymore, and as one, the Slytherins, even _Snape_, disintegrated into hysterical laughter, while Hermione's fondest wish was to melt into the snow and disappear, preferably forever. She was more mortified then she had ever been in her life, and was positive she would never live this down. Anyone else might have applauded their synchronicity and improvisation, but she saw no upside to it at all. She was just about to try and slink into the shadows, when a whirring noise reached her ears. It halfway reminded her of an airplane's engines, but that was ridiculous. They were at _Hogwarts_. Which is probably why what happened next shouldn't have shocked her as much as it did.

But really, who _wouldn't_ be disconcerted at seeing three of their schoolmates suddenly appear out of the center of a pit of nothingness? And not just simply _appear_, oh no, not _those _three. More like lifted out by two huge, ghostly hands, one like a piece of the night sky and the other a sliver of the moon, and placed softly on the snow with the utmost care. The hands disappeared and the three newly returned figures lay still, wearing blacker robes then any she'd ever seen before, and the front of their hair had been plaited in tiny, impossibly complicated braids. No one moved for a long, stunned moment, and then their guards were there, kneeling around them and whispering frantically, but not touching them.

"We're fine!" Blaise's voice could be clearly heard, though it was slurred and a bit deeper than usual. The Slytherins seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, and moved towards them at once.

Hermione fell into place beside them, and she soon realized why the guards hadn't laid so much as a finger on the three. Their skin was covered in darkfire that was blacker than any she'd ever seen before, and their eyes were the same shade, even the whites. They were shaking; but their faces weren't contorted in pain. They actually looked, well…wasted. Really, _really_ wasted. Fucked up almost beyond comprehension. They were trying to get to their feet, but kept slipping back down, goofy grins on their faces. It was one of the most frightening things that she'd ever seen. They looked demonic, yet cheerful, and it was just…creepy.

"This is impossible!" Virginia finally exclaimed, and darkfire actually flowed from between her lips as she spoke. She turned to her boyfriends and huffed. "Do _your_ legs work?" She asked, and Draco and Blaise…giggled. _Holy fucking shit, _Hermione thought wildly, and noticed that the Slytherins looked just as confused and disturbed as she did for once.

"No." Draco crooned, falling back into the snow again, which fluffed under him automatically. He stared at it for a moment, before muttering, "Cool."

"What's cool?" Blaise asked, also having given up on trying to stand, and was currently fascinated with his hair, staring at it with wide eyes as he twirled a raven lock between his fingers.

"The snow!" Draco replied, blinking his solid black eyes and lifting a handful of the white powder in front of his face. "It likes me." He stated, his blue-tinted lips quirking. "I didn't know that snow could talk. Wanna see if it'll listen to me?"

"Yeah!" Blaise and Ginny agreed, abandoning their own pursuits and moving closer, their own black eyes reflecting the last of the moonlight that was shining on Draco's silver hair.

Draco leaned forward, whispering a few words into his hand, and the snow fluttered, then started spinning. It whirled above his palm and started twining around itself, beginning to form a shape. It started as a dragon, then swirled into a snake, a tiger and back into a dragon again, before swooping away and flying around his lovers' heads, brushing their cheeks and causing them to laugh delightedly. The snow didn't melt against the darkfire on their skin like the snow on the ground that their bare skin had touched did, and Hermione would have wondered at it if she weren't so utterly disturbed by the scene in front of her.

"It listened!" Ginny cried happily, and once more tried to stand. She made it halfway up before those inky black eyes glazed and she fell again, this time into Draco's lap. "Oh, fuck it." She sighed, and slammed a hand into the snow. A small explosion of white, fluffy flakes surrounded it, startling quite a few people, but not nearly as much as her next words did. "Is it hot or is it just me?"

"It _is_ sort of warm, isn't it?" Blaise drawled, oblivious to the choked exclamations from his Housemates after his girlfriend's quite lewd-sounding question, and got shakily to his knees. He started to fall, but reached out blindly, grabbing the sleeve of one of his guard's robes. It steadied him for the moment he needed, and they watched in silence as the sleeve fell to ashes at his touch, spreading up the entire arm before the guard could stop it. If that had been his skin…Hermione took a few steps back before she even realized it.

"Why?" Draco asked slyly, giving Blaise a look that couldn't be mistaken and that made the watching people's hearts skip a beat. "Want help getting those robes off?"

"Why?" Blaise turned his own question on him smoothly, reaching up for the buttons on his robes and undoing five before she even saw his fingers move. "Would you like to see them come off?"

"That's enough." Snape's voice cut through the spellbound atmosphere, sounding more than slightly exasperated, but Draco and Blaise simply turned wicked grins on him and licked their lips. She gasped when they did, as even their _tongues_ were black, making their teeth seem all the whiter and deadlier. They started to respond, but Virginia, surprisingly, beat them to it, a surge of black fire over her skin seeming to give her the skill to stand. She sauntered towards Snape, swaying her hips enticingly, and Hermione goggled. She'd never seen Ginny look more _alien_. And entirely inhuman. Not to mention utterly seductive if the Slytherins' appreciative gazes were anything to go by.

"What's wrong, Severus?" She asked sultrily, her voice a soft, melodious purr. She reached him and circled his rigid form slowly, drawing a sharp nail over his shoulder and around his back, before leaning in and whispering silkily, "Can't take the heat?"

Then she walked away, leaving an astonished Snape and smirking Slytherins staring after her. She made it back to her boyfriends before her newfound walking ability seemed to leave her at once, and she crumpled back down to the snow, giggling madly, as were her lovers. But when the tears that ran down their cheeks from their mirth were actually black as well, Hermione didn't know if she could take much more. What the hell was _wrong_ with them? Everyone else had seemed worried at first, too, but now they were grinning like it was all very _amusing_, which it was _not_. Oh yes, she was seriously reconsidering just how great of an idea this had been.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and turned to Pansy. "What's wrong with them?" She asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"They're power-high. Very, _very_ power-high. I do suppose you can figure out what _that _means on your own?" Pansy snapped irritably, but her eyes were smiling as she watched her friends, her dark, scary friends, giggle in the snow like children. Although, they did have rather nice laughs when they were short and genuinely happy like that…In fact, it was very nearly like soft music.

"But how did Blaise and Ginny get down there?" She asked, ignoring the blatant hint in the girl's last comment.

"Gee, I fucking wonder, Granger." Another impressive eye-roll. "How do you think? They jumped."

"But they didn't…Oh. After, then." Hermione said, putting two and two together quickly, as she was wont to do. "But what made them like…Well, like _that_?" The other girl spun on her heel so quickly that Hermione barely had time to take an instinctive step back.

"Let's try something, mudblood." Pansy hissed, moving closer and poking Hermione hard in the chest. "Let's reverse the situations, hmm?" Another hard poke. "Let's say that _your_ best friend, or someone equally as dear to you…Oh, wait, I guess we _can_ keep it as Dray after all, eh?" A vicious smirk as the other Slytherins snickered and Hermione blushed anew. "Well, let's say that it was your precious Potter, just to make a point." Another poke and Hermione shuffled backwards, Pansy mimicking her movements perfectly and moving in time with her. "Let's say that he just fell down a portal into _Hell_, and you'd been up all night worrying, when your other two best friends decide to _join_ him." A rough shove and Hermione found her back pressed against the stands. "Then, along comes, oh, say, _me_, asking all kinds of annoying, unwanted questions and sticking my nose, _once the fuck again_, somewhere it doesn't belong."

The girl's eyes were glittering dangerously at this point and Hermione was so scared that she could barely breathe. It had been _beyond_ foolish to come into their midst alone. What the hell had she been thinking? There would be no rescue, for she was utterly alone in a crowd of Slytherins who despised her with every breath that she continued to take. And it's not like Ginny would be much help in her current state. Hermione had always prided herself on being so bloody smart, yet she had willingly walked into a situation that she should have known would end badly. The heavy silence stretched and she waited with a pounding heart for the first blow to land. She squeezed her eyes shut and nearly fainted when a voice cut through the stillness, satiny smooth.

"Foutre." An amused snicker. "I think Pansy's going to kill the little mudblood." More snickering. "Daddy'd be _sooo_ pleased." Now _that_ had the Slytherins gaping, Hermione saw as she cracked her eyes open. Pansy turned, her mouth hanging open in a most un-Pansy-like way, as she gazed speechlessly at the three laughing (and at this point, Hermione thought, completely psychotic) Chosen, who were all quite giddy over that last comment, to everyone's bafflement. ((Fuck.))

"Wouldn't he though?" Blaise replied, an airy, singsong lilt to his already-musical tone that was completely at odds with the fierce darkfire crackling in his eyes and over his alabaster skin. "After all, what did they say? 'It matters not if you show no mercy'…"

"'For the sun still shines on the wicked'!" Draco finished for him, laughing again while Hermione reeled. _Their fathers actually _told_ them that? _

"Does it truly matter?" Ginny asked, tugging gently on the end of his silver hair, which, miraculously, didn't burn into nothing. In fact, it seemed to _absorb_ the black flames. "For I don't much care if I ever see it again!"

"Funny." Blaise murmured, running a fingertip down her cheek fondly. "I've felt that way for ages." Her eyes turned and met his, a tongue as black as theirs darting out and moistening her crimson lips.

"You know what?" She asked huskily, and the tone in her voice had Draco and Blaise instantly alert. Well, as alert as they could be, considering. "I'm suddenly _exhausted_. A little sleep wouldn't hurt, hmm?" Dark flashes sped across the two Slytherins' forms, much the same as what had happened with Ginny earlier, and they were steadily on their feet in seconds. Each held a shadowy hand out to her and she took them without a drop of hesitation, rising smoothly to stand beside them.

"We'll see you later." Draco said distractedly as they started to leave, and Severus stepped forward, looking stern.

"I don't think so. None of you is in any condition to go traipsing about. I'm not entirely sure I even want to _know_ what could have possibly gotten the three of you so…unhinged. But I _do_ know that you'll be like this for the better part of the day, and quick to anger. Not to mention that I'm going to have to get you lucid enough to perform sight shields so you don't go to classes and terrify the students. Any _more_, that is." He added dryly. The three shot him such utterly pitiful looks that he couldn't stop a small smile dancing across his lips. Hermione nearly choked. Snape could _smile_? Harry and Ron would never believe her. Not that she could ever tell them about coming here in the first place. "Oh, and Granger?" He called, causing her head to snap up and dread to fill her.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You'll be serving extra detention with me. This is no Head Girl duty that has you out at such an inappropriate time." He said, his smile turning nasty, and she stared. He was giving her _detention_? _More _detention? _Oh, yes, a very foolish idea, indeed, _she thought ruefully.

"Oh, come now, Severus." Ginny said, to the surprise of all. "She was only worried, after all. Can't you cut her a little slack? My brother will hound us to no end if he hears about this." Shocked, Hermione met her eyes and nearly fell. Because for all that the girl had just taken up for her, the look in her eyes was anything but friendly. It wasn't exactly hostile, but more as if she were some slightly intriguing new form of insect. Slow, lazy, dangerous smiles crossed her lovers' faces, and their black eyes became hooded as they regarded Hermione with an unsettling intensity that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Snape caught their looks and sighed, shaking his head.

"Fine." He said, his eyes glimmering strangely. Had she known him better, she would have recognized it for the barely-concealed humor that it was. "But you'll be helping me in her stead, Ms. Weasley. I'm in need of more Aetherius Draught."

Hermione was instantly dismayed. That was a horridly difficult potion, and Ginny had only been trying to help her, no matter how she had looked. Had Hermione had the knowledge that the Slytherins did, she wouldn't have felt so guilty. But she didn't, and so had no idea that Ginny had a passion for potions, and that that wasn't a punishment at all, but a regular weekly occurrence. Her guilt driving her and lending her courage, she ignored the Slytherins' glares and caught up with Ginny as everyone started making for the castle. Draco and Blaise gave her mildly venomous looks, seemingly mindful and respectful of Ginny's decision on whether or not to speak to her, but just _waiting_ for her to screw up.

"You didn't have to do that, Ginny." Hermione said, and those black eyes settled on her again. _Eyes just aren't supposed to _look_ like that_, Hermione decided firmly, fighting to keep her feelings on the matter from reaching her own eyes. She didn't want to hurt the girl's feeling or anything. It had been a hard enough night on her already. She didn't want Ginny to see her discontentment and fear on top of it all.

"It's nothing." Ginny replied, another flash of darkness pulsing around her. Hermione assumed that small bursts were what was keeping them so levelheaded for the moment, and she was grateful. They still looked hazy, but at least they weren't giggling insanely for the time being.

"No, that was really nice of you." Hermione said sincerely, reaching out to lay her hand on Ginny's shoulder unthinkingly. The girl jumped back so swiftly that she nearly collided with Blaise, who caught her by the hips easily. Her eyes were wide as she looked over at Hermione, who had frozen, her hand still outstretched. The very tip of her middle finger was turning black at an alarming rate, and blood oozed out from around the fingernail.

"Shit!" Ginny exclaimed. "What'd you do that for?" She grabbed Hermione's hand, pointedly not looking at the blood, and murmured a few words in the old tongue. She was learning the healing arts quickly, and with the Marks open, she was even better. Something small and caused by her own magick would be simple. And it was. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the pain vanished and her finger returned to normal.

"Sorry." She said weakly, once more completely humiliated.

"That was good." Draco said, and at first, she thought he was mocking her. But his tone was _sincere_, and her head shot up, only to find him staring at Ginny with a mixture of affection and pride. Degrading herself for being so stupid, she couldn't help the shot of envy that coursed through her. And worse yet, she could feel those _eyes_ on her, and didn't dare turn her head. The last thing she needed was for _him_ to have reason to go at her again. _Such a bad idea, _she chided herself once more as they continued walking for the castle.

"I can't believe you snuck out." Ginny commented when they were halfway there, and Hermione glanced over at her quickly. Ginny cocked an eyebrow at her. "My brother and Harry would freak, you know."

"I know." Hermione agreed, seriously wanting to drop the subject.

"So why'd you come then?" Ginny continued, and someone that sounded suspiciously like Anton snorted. Ginny ignored him, those disturbing eyes leveled on Hermione. Knowing better than to lie outright in the company she was currently in, she settled on a half-truth.

"I wanted to see if you were okay." She said, and Ginny's eyebrow rose again. "You just bolted after…well, afterwards, and I wanted to make sure that you hadn't done anything…rash. I was apparently too late, however." She said lightly, making sure that her voice didn't sound accusatory. _Honestly_. She'd never been as paranoid in her life as she was around this bunch.

"Well, that was…nice of you." Ginny said, repeating Hermione's words from earlier, her voice slightly off, as if she had heard the ring of truth in the other girl's statement, but had expected something different. Hermione felt a shade of relief until her eyes accidentally met Blaise's and she saw her death written in those bottomless black pools. Within a split second, her insides turned frighteningly cold and she looked away hastily, her heart pounding wildly as it tried to escape through her throat. She vaguely wondered if this was how the rabbit felt right before the panther pounced, and her fear was only intensified when Ginny's eyes flashed oddly.

"Hermione, what…" The girl started, her nostrils flaring slightly as if she could smell Hermione's distress, and she turned slowly. Draco was openly watching Hermione with the same intent look that Ginny had, knowing what had caused her sudden shift in mood, but he was obviously not the cause of it. The girl's eyes moved to Blaise, who met her gaze without the slightest bit of guilt.

"I didn't _do_ anything." He said at his girlfriend's unspoken inquiry, and she leaned in, whispering something to him. His eyes went from Ginny's hair to Hermione, and the look he gave her made her feel as if her flesh were being flayed off with a dull knife. She was pretty sure that his 'un-intense dislike' of her ignorable self had just escalated quite dramatically. Having his girlfriend reprimand him because of her had seemingly done the trick. Cursing inwardly, Hermione turned away only to come face-to-face with Anton.

"He's going to kill you one day, you know." The handsome Slytherin said thoughtfully, his dark hair falling in front of his face. Needless to say, his comment did nothing to assuage her fear. "I wouldn't blame him, either."

"I didn't think you would." Hermione bit out, her skin still crawling.

"_Fine_." They heard Blaise hiss from behind them, and turned back around slowly. "But when that little mudblooded bitch betrays you, nothing and no one will stop me from snapping her fucking neck."

Hermione must have made some startled noise, because his attention was suddenly on her, and she knew that he was not in the least bit joking. Not that she had ever assumed he was. His ebony eyes were sparking, a purple sheen seeming to gloss over them, but another flash of darkfire and his face went blank again, his eyes returning to the now-regular, unsettling, unrelieved black. Ginny said nothing, simply laid a soft kiss on his lips before once more starting for the castle, taking his hand in one of hers and Draco's in the other. They seemed to forget about everyone else as they spoke quietly in French, so Hermione once more found herself unwillingly sharing words with Anton.

"Tell me something, Granger."

"What?" She asked warily.

"Do you have a death wish?" He questioned, and she felt her temper flare. They made it so hard to be civil!

"Oh, just shut up." She said acidly, and he smirked.

"I'm serious." He said, and he did actually sound that way. "And so is he. He _will_ formally challenge you if you push him much farther."

"I haven't done _anything_ to him!"

"Oh please." Anton snapped. "We're not blind, you know."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, feeling her face start to heat again. She saw that they were almost at the doors and nearly cried out in glee.

"What I'm talking about, Gryffindor," he said, moving closer and whispering in her ear, "is that you would do well to set your sights elsewhere if you wish to keep your eyes, let alone your life." Then he moved away smoothly, his mask firmly in place, but his eyes glinted threateningly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She mumbled, and saw Snape throwing up temporary sight shields around Draco, Ginny, and Blaise. They would look mostly normal to anyone who saw them, and Hermione considered those who were spared quite lucky as she passed through the entrance doors. She started to head for the stairs when a voice stopped her.

"Ginny!" Was that _Lauren_? It most certainly was, she saw a moment later as the girl slid out of the shadows and approached Ginny slowly. An ominous feeling clenched Hermione's stomach, and for some reason she couldn't name, she silently went to Ginny's side. For once, her attention was fully on the redheaded girl, and she didn't notice Draco and Blaise's glares.

"Hey, Lauren." Ginny said casually, somehow not seeming to notice the girl's hesitation and anxiousness. Everyone else did though.

"Umm…Do you think…Could we talk, Ginny?" Lauren asked, flickering nervous glances at Ginny's boyfriends and friends.

"Sure." Ginny said, a small smile on her face. "What about?"

"Well, I really wanted to talk to you _alone_." Lauren said, stressing the last and clenching her hands tightly in her robes. Hermione wondered if _she_ had looked that scared earlier, and then wondered how in the hell Ginny didn't see it.

"I don't think that's such a great idea." Draco interceded, and Ginny looked at him, surprised.

"Why on earth not?" She asked, and Hermione saw the telltale glaze that briefly settled over her once-again charcoal eyes, knowing that under the shield she had just replenished herself with another of those little bursts.

"Couldn't it wait just a bit, love?" Blaise suggested, a flash of…_something_ crossing his elegant features.

"I won't be long." Ginny argued. "Really. We'll just go to the Girls' Washroom. You can wait outside if you're so worried." She said, and her boyfriends nodded reluctantly, then told the other Slytherins to go on and thanked Snape for waiting for them all night. Their Housemates left, shooting unsure glances back at them until they disappeared down the steps leading to the dungeons, while Snape headed towards Dumbledore's office.

"I'm coming with you." Hermione stated out of nowhere, surprising even herself. Lauren started to say something, but Hermione just looked at her. Then the other girl nodded and turned on a heel, heading for the first floor bathrooms. They reached them relatively quickly, and the three girls went in, leaving the two Slytherins leaning against the wall, their eyes icy and foreboding.

"So what's this all about?" Ginny asked, sliding up onto one of the counters in a single, fluid move. Her multi-hued red hair fell around her face in tight curls from behind the braids, the ends brushing past the tops of her knees as she sat. With her small, light frame and sculpted, delicate features, she appeared harmless. A remembered flash of solid black eyes quickly dispelled that illusion for Hermione. No, she knew all to well what it was liked being pinned to a wall by the fiery girl. Quite literally.

"Ginny…" Lauren started slowly, but seeing her friend look as she did then seemed to give her courage. "What the hell are you _thinking_?"

"What?" Ginny asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"With-With all of _this_!" Lauren said, waving her arm erratically. Ginny grinned before she saw the look on Lauren's face.

"And what is 'this'?" Ginny asked quietly. Her seemingly meek demeanor seemed to bolster Lauren's boldness even more.

"Dating two guys who are totally hot and dark is one thing." Lauren said, her voice becoming harsh. "But _being_ dark is something completely different." Something odd flickered in Ginny's eyes, but her tone stayed the same as she responded.

"So this is about me then."

"Yes!" Lauren exclaimed. "And being a Chosen is one thing, but _Cocidius's_? Have you forgotten the legends about Him?" At that, Ginny's smoky eyes went so blank and cold so quickly that Hermione shivered.

"Leave my Lord out of this." Ginny said, her voice neutral and her expression completely void of any emotion. All Hermione could think was, '_Why does Lauren have to do this _now _of all times_'? The girl hadn't even so much as said that she was happy Draco had come back alright, or even asked if Ginny was okay.

"That's what I'm talking about, Ginny!" Lauren said scathingly. "That look that you have right now! You're falling, being sucked into their trap by pretty words and prettier faces!" Were Ginny's eyes beginning to burn?

"And just who is it that you think is trapping me?" Ginny asked, her voice deceptively even. Lauren goggled at her.

"_Who?_" The girl asked in disbelief. "Who do you _think_? Those 'boyfriends' of yours have fucking _tainted_ you and you don't even seem to _care_!"

Ginny froze in mid-blink, her eyes coming alight with such broiling, white-hot fury that Lauren gasped and choked, falling backwards into the wall and staring fearfully at her former best friend. Hermione had a second to realize the stone counter under Ginny's hands was melting before the girl sprung. Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for the first shriek of pain, and was surprised when it never came. Opening her eyes, she saw Blaise and Draco with their arms firmly wrapped around Ginny, whose sight shield had burned away, leaving her in all of her dark glory. Hermione realized that she'd only _thought_ the look Blaise had given her earlier was horrible beyond imagining.

Because the enraged glares he and Draco had leveled on Lauren were wholly terrifying. And the darkness in their eyes…She knew, on some deep, instinctual level, that it was the sort of darkness that had inspired legends, the sort of darkness that could send even the bravest of men screaming. Lauren sat pale and shaking as their eyes bored into her, whimpering and trying to push back through the wall behind her. And Hermione knew that the only reason they had stopped Ginny from killing her was because of how their girlfriend would feel about it later. Then they turned their gazes back to Ginny, murmuring to her softly as they swept her away.

Hermione knew better then to follow, and she actually felt sort of sorry for her Housemate. Moving slowly so as not to alarm the panicking girl, she kneeled down beside her only to get her knees soaked. Shocked, she glanced down to find that the girl had wet herself. She moved hurriedly back, and the sudden movement spooked Lauren. She cowered farther down the wall, not seeming to see Hermione, and the older girl took pity on her. Performing a few quick spells, she got the mess cleaned up, but vowed to throw her robes away anyway. Putting the shook up girl to sleep, she started her way back to Gryffindor tower, levitating Lauren in front of her and wishing wholeheartedly for some sleep of her own.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia barely noticed they were even moving as her lovers led her to the dungeons. How could she have been so stupid? How had she not seen through Lauren's act? It was obvious that Draco and Blaise had, but not her. No, she had just let herself be led stupidly along, making a complete fool out of herself. It's just that they had been friends for so long…How could Lauren do this? How could someone she had considered her friend have said those horrible things? She wasn't devastated or anything, but more disgusted with herself. They had started to grow apart lately anyway, and she had become closer to Pansy, Melody and Daphne then she had ever been with Lauren.

But it still hurt.

"We're here, ma âme." Blaise said softly, jolting her out of her thoughts. The wall was beginning to open in front of them, bleeding its phantom blood, and she silently thanked him for giving her time to school her features. They walked to see that their friends had emptied the common room, and only Pansy, Melody, Daphne, Anton, Crabbe, Goyle were waiting for them. Pansy was on her feet in seconds and hugging Virginia the next. She pulled back, searching her best friend's eyes, and her own turned viperous.

"You go and let those two pamper you, alright?" Pansy said quietly, pinching the end of Virginia's nose lightly. "Don't worry about classes today. We'll make your excuses. I think you could all use a day off." Then she leaned in, her short hair tickling Virginia's cheek, and whispered, "And I'll take care of that little bitch for you." A swift, friendly peck on the lips later, and Pansy was heading for the exit before Virginia could protest. She smiled wryly at their other friends as Draco and Blaise led her to their room, and they blew her smirking, yet understanding, kisses before disappearing after Pansy.

"Gods, what an incredibly horrible few hours." Virginia muttered, as they made it to the room, Draco and Blaise dropping their remaining sight shields. She headed straight for the bed and paused, tilting her head to the side, a sinful grin curving one side of her mouth. "Oh, except for meeting the Lady and those wonderful hours we spent under a tree." She had to stifle her laughter as Draco's eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously, while Blaise attempted to look innocent.

"Oh really." Draco drawled mildly. "And what tree would that be, hmm? Whatever could have been so interesting about it?" When neither of them said anything, a feral light filled his obsidian eyes. "Ohhh, I see. Well, I guess I'll just have to take you both then, yes? To make things even."

"Is that a promise?" Blaise purred, wrapping his hand in all that silver hair.

Virginia moved with him, pressing her body against Draco's from the front as Blaise moved behind him, teasing his neck with sharp teeth. The sense of completeness was back, swamping her senses as her lips met his. The issue with Lauren was still nagging at her, though, and she decided on something that she'd been considering for a while. It would place the final ties between them, and with that secure, she could close her heart to others. Not Pansy, perhaps, and a few others, but she was determined not to let herself fall into the same situation she had earlier. She would not grow close to anyone else. Lauren had taught her something after all.

"I have a favor to ask of you both." She murmured against his lips after a few more intoxicating moments, and two sets of onyx eyes gave her their full attention. She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. What if they said no?

"What is it, cher un?"

"Well, sixteen is the age of consent." She said, and they nodded, looking slightly confused. "_All_ forms of consent."

"Oui. And…"

"I want to be with you." She said, looking them both in the eyes. "Forever." Their eyes widened at that last part as they instantly understood her meaning, and after a full minute of them not saying a word or so much as blinking, she bit back a sob. "I'm sorry. I didn't, I mean, it doesn-"

"Shhh, ma soleil." Draco soothed, pulling her tightly against him once more. ((my sun))

"We were merely surprised, love." Blaise crooned, embracing her from the other side.

"We had hoped you would join us one day." Draco said, laying soft kisses across her cheeks.

"Eternity would be impossible without you, ma cherí." Blaise added, his tongue darting out and licking a tingling trail down her throat. "But are you sure you truly wish for the Blood?"

"Yes." She moaned, letting her conviction fill her voice as their hands ran over her, leaving her trembling.

"And what has brought us this great joy?" Draco asked, his lips meeting Blaise's over her shoulder.

"My love for you both." She breathed as their lips returned to her wanting skin. "And Lauren said that I was falling into darkness. If so, I plan to enjoy my descent to the fullest."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dear, dear, lovely reviewers! Please tell me what you thought!


	15. Black Salt and Blacker Souls

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Author's Note: **Again, yes, I have heard that Ginny's real cannon name is Ginevra or whatever. Well, fuck that. In _this_ story, it's not. _Fiction_, people! lol

**Responses to reviewers of last chap: tkmoore**,(kisses your feet and hands over little Draco and Blaise dolls for you to goggle in-between chappies) **cloaked**, Blaise? Stay out of mayhem? Surely you jest! **Jan**, Lauren and Harry? Hmmm… **seri-chan**, I hope you like this chappie, my dear review goddess! **Chaney**, it _was_ bloodlust, they gave her their hunger through the Marks, it'll just be more intense for her now. **angelfire33**, the Blood makes her a vamp. Remember when they talked about it in Ch. 2? lol **resentment**, don't worry, I died of laughter while writing it! **a.sam**, huge thank you! **SamiJo06**, no anxiety attacks! Although you might have one sometime during this…oops! **Shelby**, this should clear it up, and thanks! **windpine**, thanks! **musiclover86**, anything to help you relax! lol **Danni is Divine, James is Mine**, check the Author's Note on Ch. 8 for the Greek/Roman thing. **Terin**** Kail**, thank you! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, (huge kisses!) Thanks so much! **animegirl-mika**, I'm glad someone gets it! **little-munchkin-poo** speechlessness is good. lol **babykelyse**, I laughed when he said it, too! **Iced Faerie**, damn skippy she is! **Psi**, thanks! **short**** arse**, yay! **Alex Vossen**, I just love you. :) **xxbabysparklesxx**, I can't help it, humiliating Hermione is just _too_ entertaining! **Skotos****Enigma**, thank you! **ShortyLisa**, I'm convinced that Hermione was born nosy…lol **Tytianne**, thankyouthankyouthankyou! **amyza**, thanks! **aoi-yuki-yume**, a movie…(sighs wistfully) Can't give you a movie, but I can give you this chapter…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Virginia lay motionless on the thick, black rug in her boyfriends' common room, utterly unable to take her eyes away from the stars and planets swirling above her. She could see the minutest detail, the subtlest change, and the scents from the bathroom had lulled her into a strange almost-trance. The new power running through her had not abated, and everything was…different. Colors were more vibrant, sounds were sharper and clearer, and she could feel the strength just waiting for her to call upon it. She could taste things on the air, feel the slightest shift of pressure on her skin, and sense her surroundings constantly.

She found, to her delight, that she could control the new changes. Her eyesight was adjustable, zooming in or out at a bare thought from her, and the same went for her hearing. She could dampen it to a normal level, or expand it and hear students all over the castle. All of her senses seemed to be working the same way, and she'd gotten the hang of it quite easily. The hunger was starting to gnaw at her though, and she reluctantly rose to her feet, tearing her eyes away from the celestial enchantment. She padded across the floor on feet that barely touched it, and stopped briefly in the archway to the bedroom.

Her boyfriends lay wrapped around one another, their hair streaming out around them and contrasting beautifully with the emerald sheets. They'd only been asleep for an hour, since the process of changing her had exhausted them, but she knew that they would awaken at any moment, as she could feel the sun setting outside of the castle. Her body was still tingling from their earlier assault, but she wasn't in the least bit tired. Quite the opposite, actually. The process had lasted the entire day, as they'd taken her blood until she was on the brink of death before giving it back time and time again, mixed with their own and the power that came with it.

It hadn't been until the third time that they'd drained her and returned the laced blood that she'd felt small, sharp fangs in her mouth, and a fierce joy had filled her. By the twelfth time, there hadn't been a single drop of blood in her body that hadn't been sweetened and strengthened by theirs. The final bonds between them had solidified, the ties between the maker and the made stitching the last of their souls together as much as they could without them taking the binding oaths of marriage. She had her own link to Neithotep now, a distant, long-stretching thread that felt of old, old power and a sense of satisfaction as the Ancient recognized the new connection.

Blaise's eyes fluttered, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his arm tightened around Draco's waist, pulling him closer subconsciously. Smirking, she leaned against the archway as Draco responded, moving closer and burying his face in Blaise's neck, raven hair obscuring his features. Their legs were tangled underneath the thin sheets, their bodies pressed flush together, and it was another minute before Blaise's still-onyx eyes drifted slowly open, blinking twice before full awareness returned. A length of one silver braid was looped across him, the end tickling his cheek, and he started to swipe it away before he stopped, grinning, and grabbed it, turning the silky end on Draco.

"Mmph." Draco murmured, a second before his hand shot up, snatching Blaise's wrist. "What'd you do that for?"

"It woke me up." Blaise replied simply, his eyes sliding over to Virginia. "And how are you, ma aimé?" ((my love/beloved))

"Oh, I'm fine." She said, walking towards the far wall. "You pretty much insured that, didn't you?"

"Damn right." Draco growled from somewhere underneath Blaise's hair, and a single obsidian eye appeared moments later. She laughed and said a quick password, opening the huge, walk-in closet. She rifled through their robes, loving how much richer the fabric felt under her fingertips, and pulled out two done in a dark purple that was almost black. She had already dressed, opting for a robe made of blood-red velvet, since it seemed to match her thoughts. She grabbed two pairs of dragonhide pants and left the closet, walking towards the bed and depositing her load.

"Thank you, ma cherí. We could have gotten these, though." Draco said, rising to a sitting position while Blaise nodded. She sighed.

"You are the most stubborn people I know!" She huffed, leveling a mild glare on them. "You're still tired."

"No, we're n-"

"Don't even go there." She cut in, her glare intensifying a bit. "I can _feel_ it, remember?" They exchanged resigned looks.

"Gods, she's right." Draco murmured. "We won't be able to get a parchment cut without her knowing."

"And she'll make us drink tea and rest and-"

"It'll be just like our mothers!" The two seemed to find that extremely amusing, and she smiled sweetly as she approached them. Neither took notice, as they were too busy laughing, but their laughter died when her hands moved in a blur, wrapping around their lengths. They both froze, their breath coming out in hisses, and she smirked as they simultaneously got hard.

"Really? Can your mothers do _that_?" She asked haughtily, before letting her hands drop back to her sides. Their eyes widened and it was her turn to laugh. "Come on, Pansy will be barging in here before long wanting to know if we're alright."

"That was _wrong_." Blaise intoned as he slid from underneath the sheets and into a pair of the dragonhide pants while Draco did the same. "And if I didn't know that you were right about Pansy, I'd show you how horrible teasing can be."

"Ooooh, is that a promise?" She taunted as they put their robes on, and immediately knew she should have kept her mouth shut when their eyes turned hungry.

Cursing, she turned on a heel and bolted, barely making it out of the portrait with them right on her heels. She streaked down the short hallway, bursting into the common room and startling quite a few Slytherins before spotting Pansy and Anton. She sped towards them, jumping over one of the couches and twisting as Blaise made another grab for her. She landed on her feet and immediately spun, throwing herself to the left as Draco flew right over where she'd just been. Not wasting a second, she kept going, keeping as low to the ground as possible as she went under one of the tables. When she came out on the other side, she saw a miracle.

"Severus!" She called, making a desperate leap as both of her lovers moved up behind her. She hit the ground at Severus's feet, latching onto a handful of his robes and breathing a sigh of relief. Which she should have known not to do, as they apparently couldn't have cared less and crashed into them both, sending them to the ground in an ungainly heap. Fingers began tickling her before she could even get her bearings, and she shrieked, trying to throw Draco off of her.

"Don't you _dare_, Blaise Zabini!" She heard Severus shout from beside her, and moved just in time to see Severus getting the same treatment from her other boyfriend. The Professor howled, trying to dislodge him, and she would have helped had the circumstances been different. As it was, however, she could barely draw a breath of her own thanks to the laughter being forced from her throat, and she couldn't stop it long enough to try and escape, so she decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

"If you two don't stop I won't sleep with you for a week!" She choked out between giggles, and _that_ got them to quit, amid many laughs from their friends. Draco smirked down at her knowingly, but she could see the strain behind it.

"You need to feed." She murmured as he helped her to her feet, her sides still aching. He shrugged and gave her a slight nod before kissing her and pulling away, his black eyes flashing with humor.

"So do you." He shot back, lifting a hand and calling his and Blaise's boots into the room.

"And who shall be so lucky, hmm?" Blaise asked from beside her, a heavily scowling and seriously disheveled Severus behind him. "Because I'm _starving_."

"Tell me about it." Draco muttered as he caught their boots, and then handed Blaise a pair. They both had them on in seconds, and they ignored Severus's grumbling as the three of them walked over to Pansy and Anton.

"It's not very nice to harass your girlfriend." Pansy reprimanded as they made it to them, and Draco and Blaise rolled their eyes.

"Harass _her_?" They asked in unison. "Right."

"Hey, I didn't do _anything_." Virginia argued, and they rolled their eyes again. Vincent, Gregory, Melody and Daphne were sitting around one of the tables behind Pansy, and she noticed them trying to hide something. Her boyfriends apparently noticed it too.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, his black eyes trained on them. They looked up hurriedly, paling, and Virginia got a queasy feeling. _No way_, she thought to herself. _There's no way that something else has gone wrong already_.

"Um…Nothing." Gregory mumbled, shoving whatever it was under his robes. Her boyfriends' eyes narrowed.

"What is that?" Blaise questioned, moving closer.

"Oh, nothing really." Melody breathed out in a rush. "It wouldn't interest you. Don't worry about it." That, of course, only made Draco and Blaise more suspicious. They looked at each other, and then sprung, knocking Gregory out of his chair and onto the floor. They gave him the same treatment Virginia and Severus had just endured, and soon he was begging them to stop as well, tears running down his face as he laughed uncontrollably. Draco's hand shot under his robes, reappearing with a bunched up bundle of parchment, and he howled in triumph, jumping off of Gregory. Blaise followed him, onyx eyes gleaming, and they rejoined Virginia.

"Want to see our spoils?" Blaise asked as he snatched the parchment from Draco, who growled and snatched it back. She took it from both of them before it could be damaged beyond repair.

"Hey!" Draco said belligerently. "I'm the one who got it!"

"Only because _I _helped." Blaise said, sticking his nose in the air.

"That is _such _a lie!" Draco countered. "I could have gotten it on my own without _your_ lousy help."

"Whatever. You couldn't so much as get a _clue _without my help." Blaise shot back, and he was the one to get pounced on that time. He was on the floor almost too quickly for even Virginia's eyes to follow, with Draco straddling him and holding his hands down as he half-way struggled to get free.

"Perhaps," Draco purred. "But I know something else I need your help with." He ground his hips down into Blaise's, and the other could barely stop from moaning. Loudly. A second later, he found their positions reversed, and Virginia used their momentary distraction to her advantage, un-crumpling the parchment she was holding. The other Slytherins were looking at her warily, their attention flicking between her and her boyfriends, and she sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be _too_ horrible. The first thing she saw made it clear that that was not to be the case. Because the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ read:

**_'Malfoy and Zabini Fight for the Light while a Weasley Turns Traitor!'_**

****

The newspaper fluttered from her fingers to the floor, and she knew her mouth had to be hanging open. Fight for the Light? Since _when_? She'd been expecting the Percy thing, but the first part of that headline was ludicrous. Realizing her error in letting the parchment go, she almost got it back in time. Almost. Blaise had it in hand, moving back to Draco's side, his eyes studying her face intently. Draco was starting to sit down when Blaise handed the paper over, and he actually fell over and out of his chair as he read the huge letters on the front page. Blaise looked startled, his own eyes going to the newspaper, and they widened impossibly before he joined Draco on the floor.

"_WHAT!?_" They both exploded at once, and the darkfire that had stopped flickering over their skin an hour or two ago came back full-force, while their expressions stayed stunned and horrified. They rose to their feet again, in one smooth, eerie movement, and spun on their friends, their blacker-than-black eyes demanding answers.

"We, um, well…" Anton started, looking as if he'd much rather be somewhere, _anywhere_, else. "I guess you should just read it. And maybe floo Satordi." They snarled in response, falling onto one of the couches and looking up at Virginia inquiringly. She gave a weak smile and went over to them, sliding down between them on the cushions. Draco's hands were shaking with barely-suppressed rage as he smoothed the parchment out and they began reading.

**_'Malfoy and Zabini Fight for the Light while a Weasley Turns Traitor!'_**

_by__ Noreen Flatoon_

_'Yes, devoted readers, you read that right. This is no joke. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, both of whom were the sole heirs to their late fathers' fortunes, are not, in fact, in league with You-Know-Who. We have finally been given the full report on the pictures of them and Virginia Weasley that leaked to us last week, and it is a shocking story. It seems that the two young men had taken her to their __Alexandria__ office before they were to go on a date, and while there, were attacked by Death Eaters. It soon turned into a slaughter, as the young billionaires' security crystals later showed, and the three teenagers left only eleven out of over sixty alive. _

_They were found by Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and their mothers, Narcissa Malfoy and Silana Zabini, and the three were taken to the Ministry for questioning. They were not at fault, seeing as how they killed in defense and the culprits were Death Eaters, and their infamous guards, the Ezutîël, more commonly known as the Black Wraiths, weren't with them, because their offices had before been impenetrable. It has been confirmed that the only reason the Death Eaters had gained entrance in the first place is that You-Know-Who used demon magick. So, as you can see just from that, the two young wizards are obviously not working for him. _

_But that doesn't hold true for everyone. While we might have acquired much with the addition of two such figures to the ranks of the Light, we also lost much that night. It had been reported that during the fight, one Death Eater attempted to kill Virginia Weasley with a poisoned knife, sneaking up from behind her. She was thankfully able to get him first, thus escaping with her life, but the identity of that Death Eater rocked her to the core. For it was none other than her older brother, Percival Weasley, better known as Percy. Once a Head Boy at Hogwarts, where Lords Malfoy and Zabini along with Virginia Weasley are currently enrolled, he was said to be the next Junior Minister._

_That's nothing more than a broken dream now, however, and the world is a greyer place since we've discovered that even Weasleys can go bad. And that brings up the hotly debated question: What about Virginia herself? Her boyfriends are practically soaked through with darkness even if they _are_ on our side, and who knows when they might abandon us or decide that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is worth following? Experts say that that is a likely outcome, so where does that leave Ms. Weasley? Will she follow them and meet an end like her lost brother? Will she try and stop them and make them see the goodness in the simple things around them? _

_We can only hope that should an event like that occur (which we should all prepare ourselves for), that she will leave them to their inherent evil and take up robes of scarlet once more. What does that mean, you ask? We have it on good authority that the youngest Weasley has not slept a single night within her own House, Gryffindor, in almost two months, opting instead to stay in the dungeons of Slytherin. This does not bode well for her future choice or her family, since it seems she is already developing a preference for their company above all else. But another miraculous event occurred just this past night._

_It has been told to us by numerous witnesses that after the Quidditch game yesterday, Hogwarts was attacked by a Deep Lord. Now, don't have a heart attack just yet! I know how you feel, trust me. I'd never been more shocked in my entire life then I was when we got word of it last night. The demon managed to break through the castle's defenses, and when it seemed all hope was lost, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Virginia Weasley stepped forward. Lord Malfoy distracted the demon, while Lord Zabini opened an Infedigus portal and Ms. Weasley guarded him. What happened afterwards is something I'm sure no one will forget for a very long time._

_Lord Malfoy acknowledged the Deep Lord by name, and defeated not only a yeti, but thirteen werewolves, while another eleven had set out for Ms. Weasley. The Black Wraiths had appeared from nowhere, and that pack was quickly taken care of as well. Lord Malfoy had battled the demon itself, while Lord Zabini pulled off a spell that someone twice his age shouldn't have been able to perform. The portal had opened and Ms. Weasley and Lord Zabini had run out to help Lord Malfoy, who managed to throw the demon into the portal after shifting into a basilisk. Yes, you read _that_ right, too. _

_It seems that the three are more than just proclaimed __Chosen__ and Elementals to boot, but shapeshifters as well. It is unclear how Ms. Weasley acquired this ability, but it seems that the two young Lords gained it through their illustrious bloodlines. One way or the other, the Deep Lord was vanquished, but Lord Malfoy fell after it. This paper had originally been printed speaking of his disappearance, but emergency revisions were made early this morning. It turns out that Lord Zabini and Ms. Weasley followed him down the portal some hours later, and all three returned this morning. It has not been said, however, what transpired while they were down there._

_Many lives were saved thanks to them, and that is why they have been awarded one of our most prestigious honors. All three will be receiving an Order of Merlin, First Class, for their bravery and selflessness. All ongoing suspicions regarding Lord Malfoy and Lord Zabini have been for the moment discarded, although the Ministry warns everyone not to drop their guard. Both are still extremely dangerous and rumored to be well versed in the Dark Arts. Should the draw of evil prove too tempting for them, our newest allies may well become our greatest enemies, barring You-Know-Who himself. We can only hope and pray that such will not be the case._

_Meanwhile, the eight students currently being held for indirect attempted manslaughter, which I'm sure you've heard endless stories about, will have their fates decided this Friday, when the rest of their classmates will be preparing to leave for winter break. Seamus Finnegan, who is reported to have been the brains behind the operation, will more than likely get the brunt of the punishment, but I'm sure all of them have regretted their actions lately, having spent the last week in Azkaban as a lesson. Neither Narcissa Malfoy nor Silana Zabini have dropped the charges, and it doesn't appear that they will within the next few days. _

_On the next few pages, we have enclosed photos of the aftermath in __Alexandria__, and yes, those three gory figures are who you think they are. The others are from the battle on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, proof for your own eyes that we are not fooling you about what you have just been reading. The photographs may be disturbing for some, so we advise that younger children do not view them expect with direct parental supervision and consent. The Dark forces have suffered two major defeats at the hands of these three young mages, so, for now, go ahead and celebrate. But don't forget, even for a second, that serpents are slippery creatures.' _

"Sweet gods," Virginia breathed out, her head spinning. She didn't even want to see the pictures. Living it had been quite enough.

"Elles devoir être foutu plaisanterie!" Blaise exclaimed to no one in particular, his black eyes furious. ((They have to be fucking joking!))

"Glissant?" Draco hissed. "_Glissant_? J'volonté montrer les glissant!" ((Slippery? _Slippery_? I'll show them slippery!))

"I'm _wearing_ scarlet robes!" Virginia pointed out indignantly.

"Well, this is going about as well as we figured." Pansy said dryly from behind them. Draco spun, growling.

"You think this is _funny_?"

"Well…" Pansy started, cocking an eyebrow. "Yes. It's utterly absurd if you ask me." She said, and Draco stared for a moment before a ghost of a smile curved over his lips.

"And why's that?" He asked, tossing the parchment to the ground. "Maybe we _have_ decided to fight for all that's good and ethical." Pansy snorted.

"Right, Dray. Neither of you even knows what ethics _are_."

"We do so!" Blaise disagreed. "We know that you don't hurt your friends or loved ones, we know that you…Hmm."

"What's wrong?" Pansy teased. "Can't think of any more, can you?"

"Oh, fuck off, Pansy." Blaise sighed, falling back against the cushions. "I'm too tired to argue with you." The girl looked at him sharply then, as if noticing his fatigue for the first time, and her eyes shot to Draco, who didn't seem much better off, his head lying on Virginia's shoulder limply.

"And just what has exhausted you that badly?" She asked, those brandy eyes narrowing. Blaise seemed to suddenly realize his slip, which was testament enough on its own to just how worn out they still were. Her eyes then moved to Virginia, and she crawled over Blaise until she was on her best friend's lap. Virginia looked warily at the face mere inches from hers, and stayed still when Pansy lifted her lip.

"I knew it!" The girl crowed when she glimpsed a deceptively dainty fang, and a depraved smirk appeared on her face. "I'll be your first." She half-offered, half-demanded, and Virginia grinned, her anxiety melting away.

Her gaze drifted down to her friend's throat, and the hunger dug in vicious claws when she spied the dark blue veins underneath that pale flesh. She had a moment to see Anton kneeling before Blaise and Melody doing the same in front of Draco, before she took Pansy at her word and struck. Her recently acquired fangs sunk into the girl's skin easily, and pure, powerful blood washed down her throat, throwing her senses into a jumble. Every ancestor that Pansy's blood could claim back to the Awakening flashed through her mind, a long, continuous line that had stayed unbroken throughout the millennia.

There was the tiniest taste of Blaise and Draco, signifying that they shared blood, however little, from past marriages between their families. Intense pleasure was racing through her as the blood acted as an intoxicant, heightening the last of the power-high that they had experienced all day. She could feel her strength solidifying, could feel the vampiric blood dig its roots in, deep and irremovable. She could vaguely hear Pansy screaming in ecstasy through the heartbeats pounding in her head like primal drums, and was distantly aware of Anton and Melody's voices echoing hers. One of the heartbeats began to slow and she pulled back instinctively, falling bonelessly against the back of the couch.

"Fuck." She whispered as her body trembled and shook, Pansy collapsing on top of her languidly. Her eyesight was zooming in and out randomly, scents and sounds were attacking her senses deliciously, and she felt as if she were floating. The other screams stopped, and she felt rather than saw the pairs on either side of her fall into lethargic positions much like the one she and Pansy were in.

"Well." Draco drawled. "I feel much better now."

"Hmph." Pansy agreed, giggling euphorically.

Something brushed against Virginia's cheek, and she looked over listlessly to see one of the little dragons Draco and Blaise had created sitting on her shoulder. She smiled as it rubbed its muzzle against her face, and she could hear more of them settling on her friends and lovers. They had created a little colony in the corner of the common room the first night that they had come into existence, and they mostly stayed there, only coming out occasionally or when summoned. After the first week, Severus had threatened Draco and Blaise with bodily harm if they didn't call off the swarm that had followed him around constantly, and they had laughingly agreed.

"Damn fluttery things." Draco murmured. "Oh _no_."

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked lazily, and Draco moaned in frustration.

"My nose itches." He pouted verbally, and Blaise and Virginia laughed. "Think its amusing, do you?" He asked, and opened the Marks. Virginia's nose began itching immediately, and she cursed, realizing why he had complained. She could barely move.

"Oh, Seeeveruuuus." Blaise called. "Would you be a darling godfather and scratch my nose?"

"After your assault on my person earlier?" Severus scoffed. "Not bloody likely."

"Fine." Blaise groaned, and a shot of power lanced through their Marks.

Her senses evened out once more and the energy from the feeding opened up for her usage. Draco purred happily and helped Melody scoot over so that she slumped against the arm of the couch. He grabbed one of the cushions and put it gently under her head before calling in a blanket to drape over her. Blaise did much the same with Anton, and he and Draco slid off the couch. Virginia lifted Pansy smoothly, her weight feeling like practically nothing, and laid her down with her head on Anton's chest. Melody moved over automatically, curling up against Pansy before her eyes drifted shut once more.

"You always have taken care of them afterwards." Severus commented, and they turned to face him.

"It's the least we can do." Draco said, his attention going back to their friends. He knelt beside them, running healing fingers over the wounds on their necks. They hadn't spilt so much as a drop of their blood, and their saliva stopped the flow as soon as their fangs left the skin, so there wasn't a mess, just dark bruises. They faded slightly under his skillful touch, but he didn't get rid of them completely, since those three had a tendency to bitch for hours when he did.

"Yes, well, you'd better hurry or you'll miss satisfying a different hunger. Dinner's over in twenty minutes." Severus said, and began walking for the exit.

"We'll be there." Draco mumbled distractedly, placing his hand on each of their…victims' foreheads. _Victims_, she thought with a snicker. _Yeah, right. _

"What are you doing, love?" She asked him, and he turned deep black eyes on her as the tiny dragons flew back to their nests.

"Giving them good dreams." He said softly as she kneeled down beside him. "And Pansy needs them more than the others." He added, and she stared.

"Why is that?" She asked, her protectiveness for her friend shining through. His hand dropped from Anton's head and his fingers intertwined with hers as he met her eyes.

"She's been having nightmares since we were Marked. She can't stop dreaming about the state our bodies were in before Cocidius brought us back and healed us. She dreams of us either dying completely, or coming back as nothing more than animate zombies. We've been mixing dreamless sleep draughts for her ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Virginia asked, feeling guilty. Draco smirked.

"She asked us not to mention it. She said you'd feel guilty." He looked at her knowingly.

"But we told her you wouldn't feel anything of the sort." Blaise whispered from behind her, his hand snaking around her waist. "And you're not going to go prove us wrong now, are you?"

"No." She said, leaning back against him. "I know it's not my fault. It's not like I _asked_ to be sucked into the void."

"But…"

"But I can't help feeling a _little_ bad." She sighed. "Come on, let's go to dinner."

"Yes." Draco crooned. "Let's." She glanced at him suspiciously.

"And just _why_ do you sound so pleased to have to face all of those gaping fools?" Virginia asked, knowing how bad it was going to be after that trash in the paper.

"Because," he explained, "Severus left. Therefore, I have no plans on creating a sight shield. It's the damnedest thing. I seem to have forgotten how…" He trailed off and Blaise snickered while Virginia rolled her eyes.

"I suppose I don't get a shield either, then?"

"If you want one." Blaise replied, rising to his feet and offering both her and Draco a hand. "But I know you don't." He finished with a smirk as they got up as well. She couldn't help a small smile.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione sank onto the bench tiredly, trying not to watch as Harry and Ron shoveled food into their mouths like automatons stuck on fast-forward. Their eating habits were appalling, but she'd had six and a half years to get used to them. Even when they hadn't been friends at first in their first years, she had still had to sit by them. She wasn't the least bit hungry, and doubted she would have been even if they _had_ observed the slightest amount of eating etiquette. She had just left the Hospital Wing, and she couldn't stop seeing Lauren's battered form framed against the white sheets. Today had definitely not been pretty, to say the least.

As if that morning's late _Daily Prophet_ hadn't stirred up enough of a mess, they'd barely been let out for lunch when Pansy had approached the Gryffindors, a horde of Slytherins at her back, and thrown a handful of black salt in Lauren's face. Hermione had tensed immediately, as that's the way one witch or wizard formally challenges another, although it didn't necessarily have to be tossed at their head. Lauren had frozen before nodding stiffly, and they had foregone lunch to take it outside. None of the Professors tried to stop them after seeing the black crystals littering Lauren's hair and robes, and the duel had begun after ruling it a no-death fight and choosing their seconds.

It really hadn't taken as long as it had seemed. They were barely there for five minutes. The circle had been cast by the two opponents, and the curses flew. Watching Pansy's efficiency and prowess, she had once more acknowledged how much they needed the Slytherins' help. Lauren hadn't gotten a single curse past Pansy's well-constructed defenses, while Pansy had clobbered the other girl into the ground. She had been unyielding and brutal, hitting hard and quick with a mixture of spells and fists and feet. Besides having agreed upon the no-death factor, they had also out-ruled blades, since Lauren was one of the few purebloods who had never learned to wield one.

After it was over, Lauren had lain crumpled on the snow while Pansy had spit at her and opened the circle, walking away without looking back even once as her Housemates had congratulated her. Hermione had patched her fellow Gryffindor up as much as she could before they had rushed her to Madam Pompfrey. The healer had taken one look at the damage and the lingering stains that the black salt had left on the girl's skin, and shaken her head disgustedly, mumbling about what a barbaric custom dueling was and how it should be outlawed immediately. They had only just left, having stayed until they knew Lauren would be okay, and had then come to dinner.

"Where's my sister?" Ron demanded after he had cleared three plates. He had very nearly come undone at the seams when he had read the paper earlier, and she'd had to restrain him from storming down to Slytherin all day. The memory of Blaise's eyes was still fresh in her mind.

"She might not come to dinner tonight." Hermione said neutrally, and, of course, the Slytherins picked that time to enter.

She choked on her pumpkin juice when she saw that Draco, Blaise and Ginny still had eyes blacker then the night sky and tiny wisps of darkfire flickering over their skin. Ginny was wearing blood-colored robes, and Hermione wondered if she'd done it purposely because of the article in the paper. The whole Great Hall seemed to freeze as every eye in the place zeroed in on them, but they didn't pay the other students the least bit of attention. Only Crabbe, Goyle and Daphne were with them, and where the other half of their innermost circle was, she had no idea. Maybe Pansy felt bad about the fight she'd instigated earlier. Yeah, she could totally see _that _happening.

"Come on." Ron said suddenly, hauling her and Harry to their feet.

"Wha-Where are we going?" Harry asked, trying to get a last bite of mashed potatoes.

"To see my sister, what'd you think?" Ron replied, dragging them down the aisle between their table and Hufflepuff's. Hermione was simply wondering if there was any way to glue her eyelids shut within the next thirty seconds.

She could feel the other students' eyes boring into them as they crossed the end of the hall, passing the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws before reaching the Slytherins. They walked to the center where the older students held court, trying to ignore the venomous hisses that followed them down the table. The only three people sitting there that didn't note their arrival were the three they had come to see. Ginny was bent over their goblets, and she thumped each one quickly, the pumpkin juice disappearing. Then Draco and Blaise each tapped the stems twice, and a deep, red liquid filled the cups, causing Ron to blanch.

"That's not…?"

"No, Ron." She whispered back. "It's not blood." Shaking her head, she waved him silent as they stopped next to the three that were currently draining their goblets dry and refilling them.

"Ginny." Ron said, and his sister turned slowly. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"There's nothing wrong with them." Ginny responded evenly, and a small smile quirked her lips as she saw his relief. Apparently, she could tell that he'd been worrying about her all day, and she rose in a flowing, graceful movement, the darkfire that was tracing her skin dying out, and hugged him. "I'm fine. Really." She whispered next to his ear, and he visibly sagged with relief.

"Thank the gods." He mumbled, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back tightly. "Fuck, Ginny, why'd you have to go in that thing?"

"You know why." She said softly, pulling back and looking at him. He flinched slightly at the sight of her ebony eyes, but he held himself together remarkably well, considering.

"Yeah, whatever." Ron said uncomfortably, obviously not wanting to get into a discussion about her feelings for the two Slytherins. "I bet mum's not taking that article very well."

"I was going to floo her later. You can come with me if you want." Ginny offered, and Ron smiled for the first time in days.

"Alright. That'd be cool, I guess." He agreed, releasing her and taking a step back. "We can cheer her up for real when we get home on Saturday."

"Umm, about that." Ginny said, suddenly looking a bit nervous.

"What about it?" Ron asked, confused. So subtly that Hermione almost didn't notice, Draco and Blaise slid up onto the tabletop, their booted feet resting on the bench. It looked like a lazy, insolent sprawl, nothing more, but Hermione would have bet everything she owned that they were both tense and coiled under their impassiveness, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

"Well, you know how I stayed with Lauren last Yule, right?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. But I'll doubt you'll be going there this year." Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not." Ginny replied. "I'm staying at the Manor with Draco and Blaise." There was a moment of complete stillness before Ron freaked.

"_WHAT!?_" He bellowed, causing heads all over the hall to turn. "You most certainly are _not_!"

"Yes, I am, Ron." Ginny said, her voice becoming agitated.

"_No_, you're _not_. You'll never come back if you go inside that haunted _crypt_." Her brother spat, and the darkfire came back, flickering over her porcelain flesh as her anger rose.

"You don't even know what you're talking about!" Ginny retorted hotly. "Mum came back, didn't she? And she told me I could since their mothers will be there."

"Oh, that's a _huge_ reassurance, Gin." Ron snapped. "Look at the way those two turned out!"

"Goddamnit, Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, slamming her hand into the wall behind him.

Hermione watched, dazed, as the stone crumbled under her fingers, a vague, yet deep, imprint of a hand remaining when she lowered her arm. She drew in a long breath and turned to her boyfriends, whispering something to them before turning and leaving, shooing her brother away with a dismissive gesture when he tried to follow her. She waved a hand when she reached the heavy wooden doors and they flew open, crashing into the walls. Then she was gone, and Hermione saw Draco nod to Daphne, who jumped up and followed Ginny. Murmurs broke out around the hall, and Ron was still staring at the doors in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe she'd just blown him off.

"Are you happy now?" Blaise asked idly, refilling his goblet once again. "She won't come to any harm there, you know. She'll be safer at the Manor then she would be wherever it is that you live."

"The Burrow is perfectly safe." Ron argued, his eyes flashing angrily.

"_The Burrow?_" Draco questioned incredulously, lifting an eyebrow.

"Hasn't Ginny told you anything about our family?"

"Of course." Blaise intoned. "She just didn't mention that your house was called the Burrow, is all." It was blatantly obvious how hard it was for him to keep the mockery out of his voice.

"And just what _has_ she said?" Ron asked demandingly. Blaise's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I won't betray her confidence."

"Why? Has she been talking shit about us?" Ron questioned, his voice hard, and Hermione really wished he would shut up. Help, if you could call it that, came from an unexpected source.

"Ron, just leave it, mate." Harry said evenly, before turning to Draco, his eyes shimmering oddly. "I'm really sorry about yesterday, I know that was a lousy way to start out our friendship and-" He didn't get to finish as Blaise exploded off the bench, advancing so quickly on Harry that he barely had time to scramble backwards. "Z-Zabini? What are you-"

"_Friendship_, Potter?" Blaise hissed. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"But…But he said…" Harry stammered, thrown off at the utter fury he had evoked with a single word. Blaise never took his eyes off Harry as he spoke over his shoulder to Draco.

"Are you friends with him?" He asked through gritted teeth, and Draco gave Harry a look that clearly said '_You knocked me into a portal to Hell. Fuck you_'.

"Non." Draco said silkily, and Harry's eyes widened. ((No.))

"That's good enough for me." Blaise said furiously, and threw his hand out. Tiny, black crystals rained down over Harry's head, and it seemed as if everyone in the hall sucked in a collective gasp. Harry paled while Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione's hand flew to her mouth.

"No, no, you can't…" She mumbled through her fingers, but no one paid her the least bit of attention.

"I challenge you, Harry Potter." Blaise said clearly, his velvety voice traveling through the dead silence that had filled the room. "No-death, since our Lord wishes you alive for the moment, and just to make it interesting, no magic. You've pushed your luck too many fucking times, and now that I think about it, I can get a bit of revenge on your little mudblooded whore at the same time. She'll feel horrid knowing how much worse you got it because of her. Come, we do this _now_."

"Blaise," Hermione said unthinkingly, "Blaise, you _can't_." She immediately regretted it as those eyes latched onto her.

"I've only got one nerve left, bitch, and you're no longer beneath my contempt." He snarled, and she was taking quick steps backwards before she even knew it. "You just keep coming back to bother us, quite like a bad case of low-class lice."

"If anyone's a bloodsucker it's you!" Harry exclaimed, finding his courage. Blaise laughed, a sinister, spectral sound that creeped over their skin and scared Hermione almost as badly as his eyes had the day before.

"Well, I guess you're about to find out, hmm?" Blaise taunted, and Harry's face settled into a determined mask. She'd seen it before when he'd gone after the Sorcerer's stone, seen it before all of the Tri-Wizard tasks…And she knew, then, that nothing was going to stop this insanity. "Are you coming, Potter?" Blaise called out as he made for the doors, Draco at his side and the other Slytherins rising to flank him, their faces pleased and expectant. "Or are you scared?"

"You wish." Harry said, following him, but she could have sworn she heard the tiniest waver in his voice.

She and Ron trailed after him dutifully, and the majority of the other students followed them out into the deepening shadows as well. All Hermione wanted was for this not to happen. She already knew what the outcome would be, and knew that it wasn't going to be pretty. They trekked out through the snow, everyone but Blaise and Draco floundering through it, sinking into the cold, wet slush up to their calves. Quite thankful that she'd worn her boots, she looked on with envious eyes as the two Slytherins glided over the snow, barely even leaving indentions from their passage. They reached a section of the lawn that was wedged between the forest and the castle wall, where the snow was only an inch or two thick, and everyone stopped.

"Who do you name as your second?" Blaise asked, one of the black swords she'd seen him wield the day before appearing in his hand. "Just in case there's an…accident."

"Ron." Harry said, waving his wand and calling in his own sword before giving Hermione the length of wood. "And you?" Harry questioned, his eyes wandering over to Draco, that odd flash lighting up within them once again. Blaise noticed, much to Hermione's dismay, and he growled.

"Who do you think? The one you can barely take your eyes off of." Blaise replied acidly, and she knew Harry was thankful for the darkness, since no one could see his blush. She knew how he felt.

"Alright." Draco drawled, looking quite satisfied with the situation. "Cast the circle."

Both Blaise and Harry moved forward, one going towards the north, the other towards the south. The watching students backed away several yards as the two young men each dug a sword tip into the snow and spoke the ancient words of sealing. No witch or wizard needed a wand to activate a dueling circle, and no one had ever been able to figure out why. But regardless, the circle sprung up, pushing the students back even farther as it spread to cover a good part of the forest and the small clearing. Harry and Blaise turned back around and faced each other, both giving the traditional bow and moving towards one another.

Their swords met in a clash of metal that sounded absurdly loud as it echoed off the stone around them, and Blaise sneered as he threw Harry backwards with a fierce shove. His sword slashed out quickly, slicing Harry's arm open almost to the bone before he moved agilely back, falling into a defensive crouch. Harry took the bait, running towards him and swinging his sword at Blaise's left side, but the Slytherin moved at the last second, seeming to disappear and reappear right behind him. He pulled Harry close, his sword going to his throat as he laughed again. He made a quick jerking motion across the exposed neck, and Hermione thought he'd really slit Harry's throat for a moment.

But it looked like Blaise had only done it to prove a point, and fully intended to continue toying with him. Which is exactly what he was doing, and it was blindingly obvious to all observing it from outside the circle. He shoved Harry away once more hard enough to send him flying face-first into the snow, but to Harry's credit, he did get up quickly. He advanced slower that time, and metal met metal again with enough force to actually send sparks flying from the blades. They kept it up for a good minute, Blaise testing and judging Harry's skill while Harry looked for a way past Blaise's defenses. By the end of that minute, Harry was bleeding from nine new cuts, all of them deep.

Hermione's fondest wish had changed, and now all she wanted was to sink into the snow and cover her eyes in despair. But she couldn't, she had to stay strong for Harry, because it seemed as if he was going to need all of the help he could get when this…this _farce_ was over. Blaise struck again, his blade meeting Harry's while his foot shot out, kicking Harry hard in the back of the knee and sending him to the ground once more. Again Blaise's sword went to his throat, and again Blaise pulled it back. Oh yes, he was making his point _quite_ clear. Harry made to rise again when the steel toe of Blaise's boot slammed into the side of his head.

"How does it feel?" They heard the Slytherin hiss as Harry fought to stay conscious.

After that, Blaise was merciless. Harry tried to pull him down, and Blaise stomped his heel on the grabbing hand, the sound of breaking bones ringing loud through the silence. Even the small forest noises had died away, along with the breeze, as if the night itself watched this duel with baited breath. Harry gave a strangled scream as the last three fingers on that hand were crushed, and Blaise danced away, letting him regain his feet. Harry stared at the mangled pulp his left hand had become, and snapped. Leaping up, his eyes wide and glazed with pain, he charged at the Slytherin, who had once more fallen into a crouch.

Blaise sheathed his sword when Harry was halfway to him (though where and when he'd gotten said sheathe was beyond her), and right as Harry should have crashed into him, he grabbed the Gryffindor's wrists and flipped backwards, pulling Harry with him. Blaise's feet came up in a blur and kicked Harry savagely in the stomach, sending him flying backwards almost fifteen feet before he crashed into the castle wall, the sound of more bones cracking accompanying his impact. Harry fell onto a heap at the wall's base, wheezing and clutching his side, his ribs obviously broken. He pulled himself up, using the wall and his sword, gritting his teeth in an effort not to cry out.

Blaise waited, having moved to lean up against a tree, and was finishing re-braiding his hair by the time Harry was on his feet again. Harry moved towards him again cautiously, heavily favoring his left side as well as his left hand, and Blaise didn't even look up at his approach. Harry stopped before him, and feinted, but Blaise didn't follow the movement, just stayed completely still. Harry swung for real the next time, and Blaise curved to the side like a snake, his hand flashing out and wrapping in Harry's hair. He slammed the Gryffindor's head into the trunk of the tree, not once but twice, and let him sink to the ground yet again.

He didn't back off that time, though, but whipped out his sword and impaled Harry's upper left arm, slamming the blade through flesh, bone, snow and earth almost to the hilt before ripping it back out. Harry couldn't hold back his scream during _that_, but it was choked off a moment later when Blaise kicked his broken ribs viciously. He grabbed Harry by the hair again, yanking him upright and tossing him bodily into another tree. Blaise had him again before he even hit the ground, and slammed a fist into his face with another sickening 'crack' before literally dropkicking him halfway across the clearing. Harry hit the ground and rolled, his sword flying out of his hand.

"Had enough yet, Potter?" Blaise taunted, stalking back up to him with the easy grace of a jungle cat. Harry slowly lifted his head, pulling himself up with his good arm and meeting Blaise's eyes.

"It's not over yet."

"As you wish." Blaise replied nonchalantly, and Hermione cursed male pride with everything in her.

Harry somehow got to his feet again, and Blaise approached him leisurely, sheathing his sword once more. Harry threw a punch when Blaise drew even with him, and the Slytherin caught his fist, spinning him around and yanking his arm back harshly. A swift kick to Harry's kneecap and another yank on his arm had them hearing the distinct, stomach-turning sound of bones shattering once more, and Hermione felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Blaise's face was inhumanly pitiless as he ignored the fresh screams torn from Harry's throat, and he finished the fight by slamming Harry's face into his own knee, the Gryffindor's nose bursting like a piece of over-ripe fruit.

"I win." Blaise said simply as Harry fell to the rapidly-turning-red snow a final time, unconscious. The circle came down and Hermione and Ron rushed in with their other Housemates, surrounding Harry and healing what they could before they could get him to Madam Pompfrey. McGonagall appeared from nowhere, glaring pure death at the Slytherins, and helped them stop the bleeding. Suddenly one of the Slytherins shouted, and Hermione turned to see Draco and Blaise clutching their forearms, bent double as they shook. Then their heads snapped up, enraged obsidian eyes turning to the castle.

"What's wrong?" Crabbe asked, and they shouted a single word back to him as they set off for the castle with all speed.

"Virginia!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Virginia stormed down hallway after hallway, fuming and wondering how her brother could be so pigheaded. She barely noticed as the walls and paintings around her became dusty and decrepit looking, barely noticed as the torches became fewer and far between. Daphne had caught up to her not long after she'd left the hall, and the other girl trailed her silently, understanding her need for silence. Virginia kept walking, not caring where she ended up, and it was only when the hallway grew even dimmer that she slowed a bit. Something didn't feel right, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Daphne nearly slammed into her back when she came to a sudden standstill.

"What is it?" The Slytherin asked, looking around and letting her eyes bleed to her Animagus form's, a glowing, golden, wolfish amber.

"I'm not sure." Virginia murmured, letting her senses expand. "Do you smell anything strange? Something metallic…"

"I do." Daphne said after a moment. "I've smelt it before, I'm sure. Something Draco and Blaise showed us once."

"Can you place it? It's unfamiliar to me."

"Gods, I should be able to, but I can't remember." Daphne said, her tone frustrated. Virginia didn't like their new situation at all.

"Stay quiet and move quickly." Virginia whispered, and headed off down the hall.

She'd barely made it another four steps when something crashed down on top of her, knocking her to the floor. She screamed at Daphne to run, but the girl ignored her and made her way to her side. Virginia soon realized that it was a huge metal net that had fallen on her, and she discovered with a shock that it burned her exposed skin. Recognizing it for what it was, she cursed. _Davasca_. The only metal that could hold a shifter, let alone a vampire. Beginning to panic, she was brought back to reality when Daphne screamed. It was cut short, however, and she twisted in her bonds just in time to see the girl fall.

Praying that her friend was still alive, she fought desperately against the chains, ignoring the metal that could burn even _her_ skin, but she couldn't get it to budge, and knew the magickal qualities in the metal were taking their toll on her strength. A shadowy figure dislodged itself from the surrounding dimness, walking towards her with a black hood pulled over its face and something heavy in each hand. It drew closer slowly, as if making sure she couldn't get free, and she realized that the thing had no scent. It squatted down in front of her and reached through the net, and she balked when she discovered she didn't even have the strength to lift a hand to swat at it.

"You won't be escaping me, little fox." A raspy voice informed her, lifting her lifeless wrists and clamping cuffs of the same impairing metal on them, and then doing the same to her ankles. They were chained together with more of the davascian steel, and she felt the last of her energy being sucked up and eaten by the damned things. The hooded figure lifted the net off of her, but it wasn't as if it did her any good. Some confusion spell was at work on her as well, she could feel it, but she couldn't find the power to fight it.

"I will break you, little fox." The voice harshly intoned, throwing back its hood as it dragged her into an empty room. She was able to lift her head enough to see her attacker, and gasped.

"_Marcus Flint?_"

"It touches me that you recognize me." He said nastily, yanking her up and fastening her bonds to one of the walls. "And now the fun begins, courtesy of my Lord."

"But you can't be him." She answered hazily. "You don't have a scent." The man laughed sadistically.

"A gift from my Master. He knows what you are." Marcus snapped, driving his meaty fist into her face repeatedly. She knew that she should call for help, but she couldn't remember how, and her head slammed into the wall over and over again as his knuckles smashed the bones in her face. "Ready to be broken?"

"_You cannot break me_." She managed to spit out, her own blood beginning to choke her.

"We'll see." He said cruelly, and to her horror, he began tearing off her robes.

More blows landed all over her body, and she felt a blade slide into her abdomen before she let loose her first scream. His disgusting lips and tongue were moving over her skin as his nails and knives sliced her open, and instinct took over when he tried to slide his fingers inside her. She put everything she had into a fierce kick, her knee colliding with his groin and knocking him backwards as the confusion spell broke. She threw her Mark open wide with the very last bit of her strength, and she the last thing she knew before darkness took her was her lovers' rage and Marcus's sneering face and hateful promise.

"You're going to pay for that."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

AHHH! It's horrid, I know. Please review!


	16. Revenge, Rage and Rejection

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to my wonderful reviewers: tkmoore**, once again, my goddess, you have gone above and beyond and reviewed like a queen! I LOVE YOU!** cloaked**, I just adore you and your reviews! (Draco kisses for you!)** seri-chan**, once again, we think way too much alike! lol **a-sam**, you have no idea how I wish the exact same thing! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thank you a bagillion times over! I think I might cry! That was a beautiful review! **Paranoid Raven**, thanks, I will! **lielabell**, thanks! **KingFabuckwad**, love you, keep reviewing! **Nehima22**, thanks, didn't mean to make you cry! **jenn**, thank _so_ much! **san-lee**, that's awesome, thanks! **Midnight's Rainstorm**, yes, yes it did. **sillysun**, thanks, aren't they just beyond hot? **power**** of the stars**, thanks, and sorry 'bout your friend! lol **little-munchkin-poo**, thankyouthankyouthankyou! **me**, I will try to give you what you wish! lol **angelfire33**, please, no! (posting chapter and running away) **musiclover86**, I loved that part too! **SamiJo06**, that was like one of the best complements ever! I think I'm gonna cry…**jen s**, thank you! **xxbabysparklesxx**, he did get the crap beat out of him, didn't he? hehehe **Iced Faerie**, me too! **aoi-yuki-yume**, hope you dig this one! **Psi**, thanks! **Chaney**, thank you bunches! **Tytianne**, I hope this chap clears up some of your questions! **beautiful-exterior**, hope this is soon enough! lol **babykelyse**, I think everyone wants to punch his teeth straight! I do! **short**** arse**, I have no idea how they came to realize that, nor do I care! lol **Pyro89**, thanks, devil chicken! **gin**** rose raposo1**, thank you!

**IMPORTANT: I WON! I WON! I WON! I totally won at the fanfiction awards! First Place for Best Draco Characterization! You can see the award here: http:img68.exs.cx/img68/7541/draco.png**

**Thanks to all of those who voted for me!**

**………………………………………………………………………………………………….**

Marcus had worked out his plan to a 'T'. When the Dark Lord had offered him this mission, he had accepted eagerly. He'd seen the pictures of the youngest Weasley that had been gracing the pages of the papers for weeks, and he had developed somewhat of an obsession with her. He had never seen a female more beautiful in his entire life, and cursed the fact she was being wasted on his third cousins. Those two didn't know what was good for them. Refusing his Lord! It was preposterous. Marcus hadn't ever liked them, even when they were children. There had always been something _odd_ about them, something that made his spine shiver with fear.

And he hated them for that. And now, _now_, they had the object of his desire. He had never wanted _anything_ as much as he wanted the little fox, and he dreamed of breaking her at night. They were sweet, satisfying dreams, full of her screams and pleas and terror. She would make a perfect pet for him, a more than fitting reward for his services to his Lord. He didn't believe the tales all over the news, didn't believe that the three of them were really all that special. His cousins were just fucked up in the head, and she was just some poor, Gryffindor slut who needed to learn her place. And he knew just how to make her, even if he had to go against his Lord.

It's not as if the Dark Lord had _specifically_ told him not to, he'd just said not to tarry. And Marcus didn't plan to stay _too_ long, just long enough to get his share of the flame bitch's…_treats_. Because, after all, what if the Dark Lord wouldn't let him have a taste later? There was no way he was going to miss the chance to fulfill his fantasies and fuck his cousins over at the same time. They'd always had everything; nobility, nearly endless power, intelligence, fear, respect. Not to mention looks. He'd gotten stuck with his father's figure and face, while they had all of the aristocratic elegance and beauty that their bloodlines were infamous for.

He wasn't afraid of them anymore, or so he told himself. But he had no intention of being caught by them. Even _if _they walked in while he was having his way with their little whore, he had a special portkey in his pocket, given to him by his Lord. He knew it would work through Dumbledore's wards, as he'd tried it out earlier, so there were no worries there. He prepared the rest of his supplies, also given to him by the Dark Lord, activated the charm that would hide his scent and pulse until it was too late, and waited. The Dark Lord had expressly forbidden him to try anything if his cousins were with her, so he had a four-day wait hiding in the woods with a tracking charm before he got his chance.

He felt her storm out of the Great Hall, felt the girl that followed, and tracked them stealthily. He hadn't been a Slytherin for nothing. She finally turned into a corridor he knew came to a dead end, and he ghosted ahead using another charm from his Lord, and set up his trap quickly. The davascian net went up first, and then the wards around the classroom he intended to use for his own purposes. His Lord had said he didn't care if she was roughed up a _bit_, but he had also said for Marcus to get in, get her, and get out, with no delays. But how could he? All he could think of was forcing his length inside her, her horrified screams urging him on.

He had always found that to be the best way to fuck, and many muggle males and females alike had discovered that the hard way. But he'd never had the chance to break a wizard or a witch, not even one of those stupid mudbloods. So he made sure there were no gaps in his plan, forming his Lord's orders and his own wishes into one. And, to his delight, it worked perfectly. _Beautiful_, he thought again as his fist slammed into her face repeatedly, right before his knife slid through her tight abdominal muscles. Then he began exploring all of that creamy skin, ripping and tearing as he went, his nails, teeth and daggers doing their jobs well.

Then, to his surprise, she somehow found the strength to fight him, kneeing him hard in the groin when he started to penetrate her with his thick, meaty fingers. Yelling, his temper coming unleashed, he spat something at her before knocking her in the temple with the hilt of his dagger. She slumped in her chains, her eyes glazing and falling shut, and the last bit of her robe slid off her shoulder, falling to the floor and revealing a swirling, dark rainbow of colored light that was blazing on the skin of her forearm. He stumbled back a step, instinctual fear seizing him and causing him to sweat profusely, his limbs shaking and quaking.

Ripping his eyes away, he hurriedly covered the rune of the god back up, his mind refusing to accept the obvious. _It's just a trick, _he thought to himself, _just some scam by Dumbledore and those bastards to fool everyone. _Before he could lose his nerve, he resumed his attack even more zealously than before. So absorbed was he that he didn't notice the darkness in the corners thickening, didn't notice the tingle of divine fury growing steadily. With a cruel smile, his lust clouding and fogging his mind, he stabbed her again and again, forgetting his Lord's anger as his fantasy unraveled before him. Then, leaning back and letting his straining member free, he guided it to her entrance, intent to have his revenge and his prize.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy woke slowly, awareness rushing back and scent telling her she was laying with Anton and Melody curled up on either side of her. Her body was still trembling and sated, and a quick time spell let her know that dinner was over. Then something caught her attention. If dinner was over, where was everyone? The common room was empty but for them, when it should have been teeming with her Housemates. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, and she slid from between her friends, getting to her feet. Looking around and straining her ears, she saw and heard nothing. Her stomach tightening even farther, she shook Melody and Anton awake.

"Get up!"

"Wha-" Melody started, but she drug them to their feet before the other girl could finish.

"Pans? What's wrong?" Anton asked groggily, and she started pulling them toward the exit.

"I don't know. No one's here. Come on." She said, and they became instantly alert. No more words were spoken as they bolted out of the portrait and up to the entrance hall. They'd just come out of the stairway when two blurs shot past them, nearly knocking them off their feet. A second later, a horde of students poured in from outside, looking around wildly. Gregory, Vincent and the other Slytherins spotted them and came rushing over.

"Where'd they go?" Gregory asked, out of breath. "We have to hurry. Something's happened to Virginia."

Pansy's blood ran cold, and without so much as a murmur of acknowledgement, she spun on a heel and tore off after Draco and Blaise. The others followed her, while she followed her nose. They twisted through what seemed like endless passageways and corridors, winding farther and farther into the castle until the dust choking the halls was almost suffocating. She finally slid to a stop as she saw Daphne getting shakily to her feet, blood pouring down the side of her face but otherwise okay, and Draco and Blaise standing before a lightly shimmering door. A split second later, they threw shields around the room at the same time they blasted the door into splinters, along with the wards that shouldn't have been there, but were.

She followed closely behind them as they entered in a whirlwind of primal fury, and almost fainted at what she saw. Virginia was chained, mostly naked and unconscious, to a wall, bleeding from numerous wounds, and her face was a shattered mess, while her abdomen looked as if it had been pulverized. Marcus Flint was standing before her, just about to shove his cock inside of her, when his head snapped around in shock. He paled as he saw his cousins at full power and utterly enraged. Draco and Blaise threw their heads back and howled, and their voices rang through the silence, tinted with a divine hatred that traveled through the stone walls and reverberated in their very bones.

"Time to go, little fox." Pansy heard Marcus mutter before he yanked a battered quill from his pocket. He twisted the end, a smirk on his face, obviously waiting for something. When nothing happened, though, his triumphant look faded rapidly. "But-But it w-worked earlier…" Then his eyes went back to his cousins, only to find that they weren't there.

A second later, he was screaming as two sets of claws impaled him from behind, at the same time black salt rained over him, making whatever they planned to do incontestably legal under the circumstances. Pansy ran to Virginia, undoing the cursed chains and catching her before she fell. She felt two familiar shields wrap around them at the same time the circle snapped up, and they were full of healing energy laid out for her disposal. She put the offered power to good use, healing what she could of her friend's ravaged body. Looking back up, she saw that Draco and Blaise were just toying with the foolish bastard so far, inflicting wound after wound and keeping him conscious with magick.

But then…then Virginia screamed.

It was long and loud, bloodcurdling and hair-raising, full of fear, anger, terror, despair…And underneath it all was an unspoken cry for help, for vengeance. The sound seemed to slice straight through her boyfriends, cutting them to the core and breaking their control, and they snapped. Humanity and sanity fled from their ebony eyes, and what took its place scared even Pansy. She had _never_ seen them look like that, and she had seen them pretty fucking pissed off before. Marcus was already nothing more than a whimpering pile of flesh at their feet, but he soon became much less then even that.

They ripped him apart piece by bloody piece. Literally. They descended on him at once, ripping huge chunks of meat away furiously, his screams echoing wildly as skin and muscle flew in every direction, bouncing off the invisible boundary walls of the circle. The first to go was his dick, then a handful of his thigh, then a few fingers…And through it all, they kept him alive and aware as their claws tore through him, as their rage drove them to new depths of savagery. A mostly-fleshless hand hit the boundary right in front of Pansy, and a strange sense of satisfaction filled her from head to toe. The bastard deserved what he was getting. He'd very nearly raped her best friend, and that was unforgivable.

A foot followed the hand, hitting the boundary on the opposite side and causing quite a few people to shriek. She hadn't even noticed that there _was_ anyone else in the room until then, and didn't have time to pay attention beyond throwing her outer robe over Virginia to cover her. No, Pansy's eyes were locked onto her friends and Marcus, unable to turn away from the grisly, yet appeasing, scene. Half of a leg bounced across the floor, soon joined by a single, brown eye that was perfectly whole, and she could hear people gagging and throwing up behind her. But Pansy, for some reason, didn't feel in the least bit ill. Just…vindictive. And pleased. And Marcus was still screaming and screaming.

She felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, and it soon escaped her in rolling peals, twining with Marcus's agony-filled wails. Had she had eyes in the back of her head, she would have seen even her own Housemates looking at her in shocked silence before another limb went flying. The only parts of Marcus that were still even vaguely intact were his torso and head. Both legs had been torn off in sections, as had his arms, and the rest barely even resembled something human. Except for the screams. Those were very human, yet somehow animalistic, as if Marcus's mind had shattered and all that was left was feelings and fear.

Then it got nasty. The vitals were next, organ after organ being removed and flung with startling precision, and she realized that they weren't keeping him _alive_ alive. There was no way he could survive that, even pumped full of their magick. No, they were somehow keeping his spirit trapped within his mutilated body, somehow making him still feel everything that they were doing. Pansy idly watched a large piece of what she fancied to be his liver hit the boundary, when without that invisible wall, it would have gotten her square in the face. She wondered if she would even care. Looking down at her twitching friend, she decided that, no, she probably wouldn't.

Once again, her gaze was almost forced back to the carnage before her. It was so strange how it was all contained within the circle, while the rest of the room was unaffected. _It's like a deranged snow globe massacre. Except even though it looks like a multitude of people have been killed, it's really only one. Just Draco and Blaise style, _she thought wryly, clutching Virginia close to her and whispering to her even as her eyes followed two ribs in their flight through the air. And still Marcus was screaming, even though his mouth was closed and his lungs were…oh. Well, not collapsed. Gone, now, and hitting the blood-soaked floor with a 'splat'.

Then it got scary. Draco and Blaise, both of whom were once again covered from head to foot in blood and much thicker things, tore off the right sleeves of their robes simultaneously. Their Marks were shining like small, dark suns, iridescent and prismatic. They flashed, and a wavering, ghostly shape began forming over what little was left of Marcus. It swirled into a human form before it filled out with his features, and _that _mouth _was_ open, terror-stricken shrieks still pouring from its translucent throat. Then their Marks went utterly dark, as if black holes had just opened up on their arms, and tendrils of that darkness began leaking out of them.

They wrapped around the spirit hovering above the demolished, shredded corpse, and Marcus's screams grew even louder, though if asked, Pansy would have said that that was impossible. The circle crashed down, the blood dripping down it splattering those closest, and they felt what they hadn't been able to feel with the circle still up. None of them had ever experienced anything like it before, but somehow, they just _knew_ what it was. Cold and searing hot, primal and ferocious, protective and destructive, death manifested. _The God's Rage_. What happened next was quick compared to the rest. The darkness simply devoured the spirit in a rush before sinking back into Draco and Blaise's skin.

Nothing moved for a long moment, and then the two of them were at Pansy's side, the shields of their making coming down as they kneeled next to her. Each ran darkly glowing hands over Virginia's wounds, pushing power into her skin and closing their eyes in concentration. The smaller cuts and bruises had disappeared earlier under Pansy's ministrations, but the other girl calmed down at their touch, her shaking subsiding and her face healing. The larger, serious stab wounds had stopped bleeding, but they weren't closing. Draco and Blaise's eyes snapped open, though Pansy didn't meet them yet, and bandages appeared out of nowhere. They worked quickly, wrapping the mess of flesh up neatly and then securing Pansy's robe around her, the buttons done in heartbeat.

"Merci, Pansy." The two young men said in unison, their voices mystical and ethereal, but still choked with fury. ((Thank you))

Divinity was still cloaking everything in the room, and she noticed something with a start as she looked up and _did_ meet their gazes. Draco and Blaise's pupils were split, which wasn't that unusual, but the irises…The irises were blood red. _The eyes of Cocidius, _she thought wildly, her brain trying to process what she was seeing. But it couldn't be…No one but the First Born had been able to actually channel a god's essence, the body and the mind simply couldn't handle it, but there they were, with eyes of crimson shadows, flickering with Hell's fires. Another twinge of ancient, long-buried memory, another instinct tweaked, and she named them for what they were. _Godridden_.

"Bien entendu, mon seigneurs." She found herself replying, subconsciously knowing that they were still enraged, and therefore following etiquette to its finest. "Il être ma plaisir." They looked at her intently for a moment, before small, identical smiles curved their lips. ((Of course, my lords. It was my pleasure.))

"There is no need for formalities." They told her softly. "Not from you. Cocidius is keeping us clearheaded, for we have much to do. You have our gratitude, Lady, for being there for her while we spilt our fury with our god. The shields would have healed her, but not as efficiently as you did. And your presence in itself surely helped. We are in your debt."

She sucked in a surprised breath, for she hadn't even thought of it like _that_, she didn't mean for them to _owe_ her anything, and their smiles grew a bit, as if they knew that. They leaned in, and each kissed her on one cheek before pulling back and scooping Virginia out of her arms. They stood, blood dripping off of them and hitting the floor in heavy drops, and Draco moved for the door first, Virginia in his arms, while Blaise helped Pansy to her feet and walked slightly behind them in what she was sure was a rearguard position, whether it was subconscious or not. Knowing Blaise, it was quite conscious. Lethally so.

"How is she?" Severus appeared from the huddle of Professors, his face white and his brow furrowed even more than usual. He didn't look the least bit disturbed by what had just happened, nor by his godsons' appearance, and Pansy lifted a hand to hide her smirk. She felt quite giddy now that Virginia was in their capable hands, and as they weren't exactly panicking, she figured that her friend was going to be fine.

"She'll be alright after a quick trip to Reverie." Blaise said, and their forward progress never slowed.

Severus fell into step with them, as did Dumbledore, and both nodded. Now that she had a chance to look around, she saw that there actually weren't that many people in the room. Most were her Housemates, who trailed after them with wide eyes but otherwise blank faces, two other Professors, and a handful of other students who bolted from the room as soon as they saw them approaching. She felt a little better at the lack of an audience, until they got outside and into the hallway. It was filled with green-faced, gaping students, who practically slammed themselves against the corridor's walls at their approach, opening up a walkway down the middle.

They flinched away as Draco and Blaise passed them with the other Slytherins, eyes huge with disbelief and fear. Pansy spied quite a few of her Housemates licking the blood that had sprayed on them off of their lips and each other's, sneering viciously at the frightened, gawking onlookers. She allowed herself a small smile once they rounded a corner, and shot an amused look at Anton and Melody, who were behind her with Daphne between them. They smirked, as they'd been two who just hadn't been able to help themselves, but none of them said anything as they made their way quickly back through the maze of passageways to their dormitories.

They reentered the entrance hall only to find more students milling around, and she heard Draco and Blaise curse quietly right before the air around them wavered and they…disappeared. _What the fuck!? _She could hear her Housemates' suck in startled breaths, but they all took it in stride and made for the dungeons. None of the other students seemed to have noticed, as most had been talking amongst themselves in whispers and only turned when the Slytherins fully emerged from the shadowed archway. Ignoring them wasn't a problem, as they were all more than used to it by then, and they made it to their common room unhindered.

"Why are your cheeks glowing? And where _are_ they?" Melody hissed once they were inside, and as if in response, Draco, Blaise and Virginia appeared once more in the center of the room. Draco moved immediately for their room with her still in his arms, while Blaise hung back and motioned Pansy over. She went to his side instantly, meeting his scarlet eyes inquiringly.

"Are my cheeks glowing?" She asked unthinkingly, since Melody's question had startled her. Blaise smirked.

"Yes." He said evenly. "Come with us." At her nod, he took her hand and led her to their room.

"But _why_ are they glowing?" She asked, and his smirk grew wider.

"A sign of the debt each of us owes you. The glow will fade with the night."

"But Blaise, I don't need you to-"

"We know." He replied simply, and they passed through the vampire portrait, which fluttered its eyelashes at Blaise as he went in, looking fondly at the red fluid covering his lithe form. The portrait shut behind them and they went to the cushion that Draco had laid Virginia on, crouching beside them.

"Alright," Draco started, brushing a bloody lock of hair off of Virginia's pale, but healed, face. "It'll be a short trip. Can you cast the circle for us?" He asked her, and she gulped, but nodded. She knew why he was requesting that she do it. They wanted her to see them come back from Reverie safely, and not like the last time she had witnessed it.

"Yeah, yeah, I can."

"Excellent. Let's do this then." He said, and he and Blaise each took one of Virginia's hands, slicing her palms and their own open quickly.

Their fingers intertwined with hers, their blood mingling, and they began to chant in low, sure voices. When their eyes glazed and the chanting trickled into nothing, she moved forward, casting the circle just as she had the last time. Then she sat back abruptly, her heart racing and her breathing uneven. Cursing her weakness, she tried her damnedest not to panic, but this was something right out of her nightmares. Praying that it wouldn't continue in the same vein, that everything would be _okay _for once, she looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. Clasping them together tightly, she forced her eyes back to her friends.

How many times had she seen Draco and Blaise in similar positions? She had cast circles for their Reverie trips countless times. But that last…She didn't know why she couldn't stop thinking about it. Their ruined, wasted faces seemed to follow her everywhere, haunting her steps. Silver falling to dust beneath her fingertips, indigo eyes milky and blind, once-pale flesh black and dead with frostbite…She shivered. Gods, she could still see it even with her eyes open. Shaking her head clear, as she'd been doing more often then she'd like to think about, she refocused on her friends. How long had it been? She had no idea.

_I'm not going to freak out, _she told herself sternly after another ten minutes. _I've seen them do this a million times. Just calm down. _Did Draco's finger just move? Of course not. Sighing, she took several deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. Those damn dreams were fucking her head up. She was a Parkinson, damn it! She was not going to let something so miniscule drive her mad. She'd seen worse, she'd seen them _do_ worse, but…but it had never happened to _them_ before. And Virginia…Pansy might not have known her as long as she'd known Draco and Blaise, but the girl had gotten under her skin. It felt like she'd known her forever.

They could talk to each other about anything, and had. They were both close to Melody and Daphne as well, but not quite as much. Pansy had always been a little apart from the other two girls, most of her _real_ secrets and confessions being told only to Draco and Blaise, who had listened and comforted her with all of the protective indignation and love of older brothers. And then Virginia had come. Their connection had been almost instantaneous, and neither could really explain it. They'd just been drawn to each other, and had made fast friends. And a night spent in Pansy's room with a couple of bottles of brandy-laced wine had solidified it.

They'd gotten utterly smashed, much to Draco and Blaise's amusement, and when they'd fallen asleep, the other two had covered them up and let them sleep in Pansy's bed, as Virginia usually did when they had one of their 'girl nights'. She and Virginia had woken up an hour or two later, still drunk as shit, and had spilled, well, just about everything. Pansy had no idea what had prompted her to do such a thing, as no amount of alcohol could have loosened her tongue like that for anyone else, but afterwards, they had been closer than ever. A movement caught her eyes, and she nearly, _nearly_, mind you, shrieked in utter glee.

"Oh, thank the gods." She muttered as their eyes cleared and Virginia sucked in a huge breath.

Then the other girl's eyes flew open and she started to panic, her hands going to her wrists, then her ankles, before her boyfriends grabbed her hands gently and their Marks pulsed, while Pansy noticed something she hadn't before. There were wide, dark red welts on her friend's skin where the davascian cuffs had been, and Pansy knew that they wouldn't heal except on their own, over time. She'd taken care of Blaise and Draco's own skin too many times, soothing it with salves and ointments after their…_lessons_ with their fathers, not to know how davasca affected their flesh. Muttering a swift summoning spell, she moved forward slowly.

"Virginia?" She called softly. "How are you?" Slightly dazed, slightly shocked charcoal eyes met hers, and Pansy gritted her teeth when she realized how taxing it had all been on her friend. Because those eyes should still have been black. But she looked okay otherwise, and Pansy let herself relax a bit.

"P-Pansy?" Virginia started slowly, her nose scrunching as she tried to remember. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and Pansy started slightly when those eyes _did_ bleed to solid black once more, the Mark on her arm flickering brightly enough to cast shadows under her sleeve, which is what drew Pansy's gaze to it in the first place. Maybe she wasn't as worn out as she'd seemed, after all. "Where is he?" Virginia demanded, and Pansy met her eyes again.

"Dead." She supplied neutrally, but wasn't able to keep a small, satisfied smirk from ghosting over her lips.

"And damned." Blaise chimed in, his head tilted to the side, blood encrusted raven locks falling over his equally bloody shoulders. Virginia's eyes widened again as she fully registered his appearance, and then shot to Draco. Suddenly, she moved forward, sitting up and leaning closer to him, her hand moving towards his collar before stopping. Then she laughed. Low, husky and slightly musical, it surprised all three of them. She kept laughing, until tears were running down her cheeks and she could barely draw a breath.

"Umm…" Pansy hesitated, glancing at Blaise, who shrugged, looking slightly amused as he watched his girlfriend. "Are you alright, Virginia?"

"O-oh gods." Virginia managed to say between bursts of hilarity. "It's…It's…oh _gods_."

Then she couldn't say anything, giggling quite hysterically again, and pointed vaguely at Draco's neck. Blaise moved forward, leaning over Virginia and looking from where she had, but it was on the opposite side from where Pansy was, and she was starting to wonder if she even wanted to know. Blaise froze mid-blink and didn't seem to breathe for a moment, before he, too, started laughing. Draco sighed, as if he didn't really want to know either, and a weird, morbid sort of curiosity lit within her. She crawled over Blaise's legs and craned her neck, but she couldn't see anything except dried blood and little pieces of pink…something. Then she moved his hair, saw it, and fell backwards onto Virginia's lap.

"_Is that an ear!?_"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Four days later, Virginia closed her eyes as the stiff, cold wind whipped past her face, blowing her loose hair out behind her like a banner. Metal slammed against metal in the courtyard seven stories below her, and she idly wondered how much longer they planned to stay out. It wasn't quite curfew yet, and they'd already been at it for over two hours, ever since the sun had fully set. The moon shone bright and almost full above them, and from her perch on one of the ancient, diorite gargoyles that lined the upper levels of the castle, it looked huge. The sky was clear, a glassy black speckled with thousands of stars, and it reminded her of the Lady, which had her smiling.

Glancing back down, she saw her boyfriends starting yet another round of sparring with each other, and sighed contentedly. They were beautiful when they fought, especially with blades, but when they fought one another…It was quite breathtaking. They were matched in skill, so they could let loose and give their all without either hurting their sparring partner or meaning to kill. A group of Slytherins was spread out in a loose circle around them on the lawn, talking to each other lazily as they watched their leaders fight. It was a common occurrence, and others had been fighting on and off as well, honing skills they didn't plan on losing just because they were at school.

Virginia had already gone a few rounds with Pansy and Blaise earlier, before scaling the wall to watch the sky. She'd found this place right above the clearing they fought in a month ago, and usually retreated up to it at some point during these excursions. She'd made a point to that night, since they were leaving for winter break the next morning. She rubbed one of her still-aching wrists distractedly, wondering, once again, what the Manor would be like. Gregory and Vincent would be coming with them, as were Pansy, Anton, Melody and Daphne. They'd all been there before, but Virginia was practically dying of anticipation.

She knew the grounds were full of different magical creatures, and she was looking forward to exploring. And, wonder of wonders, she had talked Draco and Blaise into visiting a muggle town with her. They'd been in them before, of course, but usually stayed in the wizarding sections that were hidden away by spells and glamours. They'd never actually gone into any of the shops, and she knew that it would prove to be an entertaining day. Sinking down onto the gargoyle's massive head, she fell back with a sigh, a pillow of fire saving her head from cracking against the stone. Half a breath later, she back was on her feet, knife in hand and ready to throw, as she felt something moving for her from the left.

"Peace, mon âme." A low, smooth voice intoned, and her boyfriend slid out of the shadows in a fall of silver silk and black, rustling velvet.

"Are you _insane_?" She hissed, returning her dagger to her boot sheathe. "I was less then a second from sending this at your head! Why did you cloak yourself from me?"

"Because if you _had_ impaled me with that wicked little blade of yours, you'd feel _horrible_. And then, of course, you'd wait on me hand and foot, telling me how sorry you are and how much you love me, and you'd do that delightful thing with your tongue, and-"

"Okay, okay!" Virginia cut him off, sneering at his smirk.

He moved toward her slowly, his mercury eyes glinting, and she melted against him when he wrapped strong arms around her waist. He smelt of jasmine and snow, and he hadn't even broken a sweat after hours of fighting, which almost everyone else had despite the chilly air. His hair twined with hers as the wind swirled and howled around them, and she didn't have the first clue to how long they stood there, nor did she care. Something was missing, though, and they eventually broke apart to go to him. She turned to climb back down the steep wall, but Draco stopped her, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Not that way." He said, his voice nearly lost due to the swift, whistling air, and he stepped backwards…onto nothing. She started to lunge for him when two discs of ice appeared beneath his feet, supporting him in midair. Sucking in a breath, she looked at him wonderingly.

"How…"

"I don't know." He replied sincerely, holding out a hand to her. "Call it an epiphany. Go ahead. It's a bit like your convenient little pillow."

Cautiously sticking out a foot, her hand clasping his, she concentrated, and a disc much like his but made of the same flames her pillow had been hovered in the air when she opened her eyes. She tested it gingerly with a toe, and found it quite sturdy. Still a bit dubious, she steeled herself and stepped out onto it, instantly creating another for her other foot. Looking down, she wished she hadn't. The ground was really far away, and there was no comforting presence of a broomstick underneath her. Her stomach momentarily flipped, but his hand tightened around hers and her Mark tingled, and she calmed enough to find her center of balance.

"Holy shit." She murmured, and Draco laughed.

"It is quite exhilarating, is it not?"

"Yes." She agreed, and took a few steps forward.

After a moment, she didn't even really have to think about creating the small platforms of fire, it just sort of…happened. They headed for the ground as if they were descending a spiraling staircase. It wasn't until they were halfway down that they made a game of it, secure enough in their prowess to start running. And it wasn't until the end, about ten feet off the ground, that she caught Draco and they tumbled to the ground, landing on soft snow that rose up to catch and cradle them. Laughing, her legs entangled with his, she looked up to see Blaise standing over them, an ebentine sword in each hand and a smirk on his dark, sensuous lips.

"And just _what _was that all about?"

"He started it!" Virginia said accusingly, waving vaguely in Draco's direction.

"No, I didn't!" Draco argued, absently flinging a handful of snow at her. "You got all cocksure-"

"_I_ got cocksure!?"

"Yes, and you-"

"Children, children." Blaise tsked from above them. "Do stop bickering. We still have to finish packing, you know."

"_Children?_" Draco asked incredulously. "I'll have you recall that I'm four and a half days older than you, thank you very much."

"Then act like it." Blaise said haughtily, sheathing his swords and vanishing them.

"Ooooh, I am going to kill you." Draco growled, and Blaise's eyes widened.

"Moi?" He asked innocently, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. Draco didn't get a chance to answer when a voice rang out over the lawn. ((Me?))

"Ginny!" Ron called, and Virginia turned her face to him slowly. He was stomping through the snow with Hermione and Harry, and Virginia tried her damnedest not to smile as she spied the slight limp Harry was still sporting from his run-in with her lover. "What are you doing laying in the snow?" Ron questioned as he came to stand over her as well, his voice rough.

"You probably don't want to know." Virginia said cheerfully, rising to her feet while Draco did the same.

"You're probably right." Her brother grumbled.

She'd forgiven him, once again, for his habit of saying stupid things, and he had broken down when he'd come to see her after the…thing with Marcus. He'd been one of the students that had run after her boyfriends, as had McGonagall, while Hermione and some other upper year Gryffindors had taken Harry to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall had stopped him from going after her immediately, but he'd seen what had been done to her, knew what had _almost _been done, and had actually managed a stumbling, reluctant thanks to Draco and Blaise the next day, as had her other brothers. Her parents' gratitude had been a bit more genuine, though.

As for her boyfriends…What had happened had spooked them. Badly. They didn't like the fact that the confusion spell Marcus had cast on her had been strong enough to cause her to forget how to open the Marks. They didn't like the fact that it had been able to happen inside the castle with none the wiser. They didn't like the fact that it had been so close, _too_ close. They didn't like the fact that the Dark Lord seemed to want something with her. They didn't like the fact that she woke up screaming no matter what they did, dreaming of Marcus's disgusting attentions. And, because of that last bit, they had been wary of touching her for over two days, almost as if they had been afraid to. At least that insanity had finally come to a stop.

"Ginny!" Her brother's voice cut through her thoughts, and she pushed them away for later inspection. Apparently, Ron had been trying to get her attention for a while, judging by his annoyed expression.

"Sorry." She said, shrugging. "So, what do you need?"

"You still going with them?" He asked, jerking his head at her boyfriends.

"Yes." Virginia sighed. "I was still going yesterday, and last night, and four hours ago. Why would I not be now?" Ron looked flustered.

"Look, I was just _checking_, alright?" He huffed. "You might have returned to the ranks of the sane, or something."

"That's hilarious, Ron. Really."

"So…Are you okay?" He asked, and she stopped herself from screaming in frustration. There was that damn question _again_.

"Yes." Virginia said shortly, suddenly feeling tired.

She was so _sick_ of this. She _hadn't_ been raped, for the love of Gaea. So why in the hell was everyone but the Slytherins acting as if she had been? She could understand why Draco and Blaise had acted differently, but she was in a physical relationship with them, and that had been the only thing that had changed. _It sure as hell didn't last long, either_, she thought with a flash of triumph. She'd explained to them, quite simply, that yes, it had been disturbing and disgusting, but nothing so traumatizing as how it probably would have been had they been five minutes later, and could they please shut up and fuck? Could they ever. Her calves were _still _sore.

"Are you sure?" Ron persisted, and Virginia clamped her hands in tight fists, determined not to snap at him. He was just concerned, she knew that, but everyone treating her like glass was far past chafing. She looked forward to the next two weeks more than she could say.

"Yes, Ron. I'm very, very sure. I'm healed, I'm whole, and I'm not mentally damaged in any way." She said, and actually kept the sarcasm to a minimum level despite her intense desire not to. It was still there, though, and he gave her a mild glare.

"I'm just worried about you." He said in a low voice, moving closer, as if he feared that the Slytherins would hear him. Well, she knew two that definitely could.

"There's no reason to be."

"There is!" He exclaimed in a soft, yet harsh, whisper. "Ginny, it's bad enough about what happened, but going to that wretched place with them as well? Are you determined to get yourself killed?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me while I'm there, Ron! You know the Manor's better protected then Hogwarts and the Ministry combined!"

"It's not 'better protected'! It's got a bloody bunch of dark creatures prowling around, waiting for some little thing like you to come along, all unawares-"

"Who, exactly, are you talking to?" Blaise snapped acidly before Virginia could retort, and Ron spun to face him. "Because it surely can't be her. I know that even _you_ couldn't have the audacity to imply that someone who could break you in half like a twig is helpless."

"Look, Zabini, just because you got a couple of lucky shots in on Harry the other day-"

"Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit." Virginia muttered darkly, moving closer to Blaise incase Ron somehow became even stupider within the next few seconds. Which was highly likely.

"-and just because you got lucky, again, and barely got to my sister in time-"

"This is _bad_. Shut up, shut up, shut up." She begged quietly. He was pushing buttons best left alone. Very, _very_ alone.

"-doesn't mean that you can just talk to me that way. I'm her brother, damn it, and that comes before whatever momentary, rebellious thrill she gets being with you two for the time being-"

Was it getting colder?

"-and when she sees just how fucked up you both really are, when this girlish fantasy that's blinding her falls away-"

And darker. It was definitely getter darker.

"-it'll be _me_ there that has to watch her pick up her broken heart, if she's even _alive_ at that point. And with the danger just _being_ with you two has put her in-"

Okay. She was pretty sure that she was about to strangle her brother.

"-I doubt she will be! It shouldn't be any wonder that I'm worried about her safety! Look what a shoddy job you two did keeping her safe on Monday!"

Silence. Stillness. Not a single thing moved or spoke. Except for her goddamned brother.

"Who do you think she'll blame for that when she comes to her senses? When she sees that pain and death and torment are the only things that she'll ever gain from being with you!?" He shouted the last, and Blaise and Draco stepped back as if they'd been struck. They said nothing, their faces blank, and it wasn't until they glanced at her that she saw just how deep those last jibes had cut. And that hesitance, that guilt, neither of which should have been in their beloved eyes, made her control over her temper crumble, along with years of silence and restraint.

"You wanna start laying fucking blame at people's feet?" She hissed furiously, shoving him hard and making him stumble backwards. "Let's start with _you_, then. Where were you, dear _brother_, in my first year? Hmm? Let's see—you were traipsing around with the Boy You Wish You Were and a girl you've been angsting away over for years, looking for the big, bad Chamber of Secrets. Sneaking into Slytherin after the girl wonder whipped you up some Polyjuice, looking for their Founder's Heir. What's the face for, Ron? Surely you didn't think I didn't know about that? Tom was anything but careless."

"Ginny, don't say that name-"

"_Why the fuck not!?_" Oh, just screw it _all_. "_I'm_ the one who had him in my fucking head! You try so hard to rule my life, saying that you only do it because you care, but where the fuck were you then? A _year_, Ron. I was being possessed by the bloody Dark Lord for almost an entire _year_, and you never noticed. In fact, I think you spoke to me a total of four times. You searched and searched, when I would have told you everything if you'd even so much as asked me if something was wrong."

"Ginny, I-"

"Shut up. Just shut up. You started this, you usually do, and I'm fucking tired of it. You wanted to throw stones, and I've got _dozens_. You rarely even acknowledged me after that incident. You think I don't know why you got those Sneak-a-Scopes in Egypt? You think I didn't hear the family whispering at night when you thought I was sleeping? '_Poor thing_', you said, '_Not the same_', you said, '_Tainted_', you mumbled, as if saying it softly and only when the lights were out made it less real. I know you all think that's why I'm with them now, with the exception of maybe mum; I know you think something went wrong in me after that."

"Ginny, we don't-"

"Leave it. I've had years to accept it. But what you didn't, and still don't, understand, is that I was different from the rest of you long before that. It's just that none of you noticed until you started _looking_ for the differences. I could spend hours detailing the incidents in which you could have been there for me and weren't, but why keep us here for so long? And as for Monday, if you hadn't had to be such an interfering, nosy bastard who couldn't keep his mouth shut, I never would have told Draco and Blaise to stay behind so I could be alone for a bit to wonder why my big brother, whom I love, doesn't seem to return that love even enough to support me and my decisions."

"You told them-"

"Of course I did. Did you see them come with me?" Sarcasm is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

"Oh gods-"

"_Exactly_. I see you're starting to understand. If you hadn't started some shit simply to start some, I would have been with them the rest of the night. _Safe_. You tell them that they didn't do a good job protecting me, when you're the reason I wasn't under their protection at the time. You tell them I'll blame them one day, that I'll only experience pain if I stay with them. Do you want to know who I would really blame, if I were to blame anyone at all?" A lengthy, heavy pause. "No, you probably don't. So I would drop it if I were you."

"But-"

"We're completely different people, Ron, even if we are family. I never fit in at home, not really, and I've always made a horrid Gryffindor. But I've found people that I do fit in with, that I'm comfortable around, and you can't stand it because they're Slytherins. You say that you hate them so much; you say that you absolutely _loathe _them, when all you've ever really been is jealous. You say that you love me, you say that you only want what's best for me, but all you really want is me away from them. But I never will be, and do you want to know why? Do you want to know a secret?"

"I-I guess…" He stammered, and she leaned in close to him.

"I was supposed to _be_ a Slytherin, brother of mine." She whispered emotionlessly, and he stumbled back a step.

Looking at her as if she were a stranger, he started shaking his head in disbelief, still backing away. Her anger evaporated suddenly, being swiftly replaced by a well of sadness at his reaction, even though she'd known that that was how it would be. Telling herself she would _not_ cry, she watched the emotions flicker in his familiar eyes. She saw the denial, she saw the disgust, she saw the horror, she saw the rejection. A dry sob caught in her throat, and she cursed herself. It was just…she hadn't known it would hurt so much. Maybe she _had_ still held some delusions. Maybe she _had _still hoped against hope that he would say it was okay, say that he loved her anyway, and wrap her up in a hug.

"Ron-"

"No." He said raggedly, falling and barely noticing as he scrambled back to his feet, shoving Harry and Hermione's hands away from him. "No. You…you…a-a _Slytherin_! How…no Weasley has _ever_…you really _are_ one of them! Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck. No way, no bloody way, no sister of mine…"

"Ron? Ron!" Hermione yelled, shaking him. "What in Merlin's name are you jabbering about?"

"Didn't you _hear_ her?" Ron demanded. "_Didn't_ you? A _Slytherin_, 'Mione! She was supposed to be a goddamned _Slytherin_!" Harry and Hermione looked shocked as well, their jaws dropping open, before Hermione collected herself after a moment.

"Okay. Okay. That's…different. And?"

"_And?_" Ron repeated incredulously. "What do you mean '_and_'? That speaks for itself! Weasleys are not supposed to be Slytherins!"

"Well…" Hermione started slowly, looking anxious. "She is."

"No, she's not."

"But you just said that she said-"

"_I know what was said_!" Ron shouted. "And I meant what _I_ said! _Weasleys_ are not supposed to be Slytherins!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Virginia asked quietly. "Do you not consider me a Weasley because of this now?" He locked angry, hurt eyes on her, looking classically betrayed.

"How can I?" He questioned just as softly, and turned his back on her, figuratively and literally, storming away through the snow. She didn't register much after that, as the words seemed to scorch her very soul, and she wasn't aware of crumpling to the cold ground.

She'd always known that she wasn't like them, true, but she'd still believed that they loved her, even after the Percy mess. But there went another brother, gone from her grasp, and the last of her ideals about the bonds between family shattered around her. A fundamental part of her world seemed to crash and burn with them, along with her inner defenses. The full weight of Percy's treachery finally hit her as she watched a second brother abandon her, and time seemed to stop, leaving her numb and cold. So it came as quite a shock when she finally became aware of her surroundings again and found herself curled between Draco and Blaise on their bed.

"I'm sorry." She intoned in a low voice that was barely audible even to them, and she felt them shift around her.

"What on earth could you possibly have to be sorry about, cher un?" Draco asked, running his fingers down her side.

"For being so stupid about this." She clarified morosely. "I knew better then to tell him that, I knew how he would react, but I was so angry…"

"And there is still nothing to be sorry for." Blaise pointed out, plaiting her hair almost unconsciously. "He has no right to judge you for something like that, but sadly, that's just the way it is."

"I _know_. That's why I feel so stupid for letting it get to me." She sighed, cursing the tear that leaked from her eye against her will.

"It would get to anyone, love. It's not pretty when your own kin turns against you." Draco said, and there was a hard edge under his smooth words. Something clicked inside her mind.

"Oh, shit. Wasn't Marcus your cousin or something?" She asked, rising up on one elbow and racking her brain for the pureblooded family trees that she'd been forced to memorize as a child.

"Third cousin on my side through my mum, and on Blaise's through Jeran." Draco replied stiffly, and she ran fingertips over his lips.

"It's alright. We can't help who we're related to, after all." She said, and laid a soft kiss on his lips and then Blaise's before falling back on the pillows. "Gods, I wish tomorrow would hurry up and get here."

"Ready to get out of this hellhole, are you?" Blaise teased, tugging on the end of one of her newly finished braids.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to dragging you two around muggle stores more then you would believe." She said, grinning at the appealing idea. Their noses scrunched up and they rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be _thrilling_." Draco said sourly. "Tons of excitement."

"What could muggles possibly have that would make the time we're going to be wasting worth it?" Blaise asked, shaking his head. "Sounds pointless to me. But we'll go like we said would."

"You'll see. My dad's taken me a few times. And I thought you knew a bit about muggles."

"Their _weapons_." Blaise supplied dryly. "We know plenty about _those_, seeing as that's what makes them mildly threatening."

"But their knick-knacks and culture?" Draco questioned doubtfully. "I think I'd rather spend a day with Aunt Bella, and that's saying something." Virginia snickered.

"Yes, well, didn't I tell you?" She asked angelically. "Your reactions are what's going make it amusing." She _almost_ made it off the bed, laughing when they caught her, but she couldn't completely shake the feeling of abandonment that lingered in her mind like a dormant shadow.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Nagini slithered into the makeshift throne room, her tongue flicking out and leading her to her Lord. He had called for her and she had answered promptly, as always. She made her way to where he sat slowly, reluctant to change back into her human form. She hated walking on two legs. It was degrading. But she would do it for him. She would do _anything_ for him. _Her Tom_. And because of that, she didn't hesitate shedding her beloved skin for the detested one when she reached the bottom of the dais. She kept her head bowed until he wrapped a hand in her hair and yanked her up unto his lap. His forked tongue slid out and brushed her cheek, making her shiver.

"What news, faithful one?" He asked her in a sibilant, kindred voice.

"They leave for the Manor on the morrow, my lord." She replied, her human mouth feeling odd as she moved it. "We were not able to retrieve the supplies the Flint boy lost us."

"It does not matter." He said, his hand tightening in her hair painfully. "That fool failed, but I was prepared for that. It would have been sweeter had he succeeded, but it accomplished something nonetheless."

"It did, my lord?"

"Oh yes." He said happily. Or as close to happily as he ever got. "All plans must have an alternate path for them to follow."

"I'm sure you thought of everything, my lord." She said sincerely, and kicked one of the crawling, pleading muggles at their feet away as it tried to grab her ankle, its eyeless face gazing up at her, its mouth open in a scream that spells had long ago silenced.

"Yes, that I did." He agreed, looking pleased with himself. The muggle grabbed his foot, having made its way back to them somehow, and her Lord hissed angrily.

"Will someone please take that thing somewhere else?" He asked in a low, booming voice, and three hooded figures appeared out of the dark corners of the room.

"As you bid, Master." The tallest one said humbly as they prostrated themselves before their Lord.

"Then do it!" He screamed, his eyes blazing, and they hurriedly complied, dragging the mostly-dead muggle from the room and back to the pile in the huge basement. Her Lord calmed again in an instant, looking as cool and composed as ever, and she gazed at him adoringly.

"You were saying, my lord? About your plan?" She queried, wanting to hear him speak some more.

"What? Oh, yes. Well, Flint might have failed, and quite miserably at that, but not all was lost."

"How is that, my lord?"

"Because," he said gleefully, "I know young pride and protectiveness. Her lovers don't like what happened. They want her safe, and if I won't leave it alone, they'll want me dead. They've stayed mostly neutral so far, no matter what the stupid muggle-lovers print, but they won't much longer."

"And how is that good, my lord?" Nagini asked, slightly confused but trustful of his knowledge and reasoning.

"It's good because they'll come looking for me, to either make a deal or warn me off. As I've told you, they're arrogant. Too bloody arrogant, but it fits my purposes well. They won't tell the girl or anyone else, and it might take a while, but they'll come. Oh yes, my pet, they will come."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mwahahahaha! Please review, or I shall die!


	17. The Arrival

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to my lovely reviewers: tkmoore, **ah, my dear Kelly, there just are no words for your continued magnificence! (kisses!)** cloaked**, I (sob) adore you! It's so nice to have someone who _understands_!** Jan**, once again, darling, I bow before your reviewing self!** seri-chan, **have I mentioned lately that I love you? Your reviews are awesome! Thank you!** aoi-yuki-yume**, you'll have to wait and see! hope you like this chappie!** TarynMalfoy88**, don't worry, I'll vouch for your sanity. (Us crazy people have to stick together.) lol** madcow**, thanks so much, and I'm proud to have turned you on to D/B! **resentment**, you'll see, and thanks! **babykelyse**, glad you liked the ear. (so did I!)** childofoceans**, as you commanded! **musiclover86**, I checked the 'Nagini' thing on the Harry Potter Lexicon, and it said that was the right spelling. Thanks so much, though! :) **Shelby**, I didn't consider them friends after the bathroom incident! lol **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thank you SO much! I just love you! **Pyro89**, thanks! **a.sam**, the trip begins…lol **jenn**, voldie…rubber ducky…gods, I can't stop laughing! **GinnyPotter5**, thanks! **BOME**, behold the Manor! lol **little-munchkin-poo**, sucking up is good…:) hope you like this one! **power**** of the stars**, THANK YOU! **Psi**, thanks! **xxbabysparklesxx**, as always, _thank you_! **sillysun**, thank you so much! what an ego boost!

Now, to the story!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia awoke with a start, her heart pounding. Her boyfriends, who had actually decided to sleep for a few hours before they left for the Manor, shot up on either side of her at the same time. Swirling images were still rushing through her head, and she couldn't stop them. Long, flowing hair like rosewood, so dark and rich a brown it was almost black, shimmering with dark red lowlights. Eyes of the same color but even darker, lit with the tiniest specks of a green more vibrant then even Harry could claim. A sense of steadiness, calmness, peace. A sense of the earth. The sweet, cloying smell of orchids, and the last, longing notes of a song sung by a voice that could make angels weep.

"Gods…" Virginia breathed as the dream finally crumbled completely.

"What…" Blaise started.

"The fuck was that?" Draco finished for him. All three of their Marks were ablaze, casting odd shadows on the starry walls of their bedroom, and they were tingling strangely.

"I have no idea." She stated, staring at her shining arm. "Did you…"

"Yes." They answered in unison.

"Was it a male or a female?" She wondered, trying to call the vision back.

"I'm not sure." Draco replied, his silvery eyebrows furrowing. "I'd rather know why we had the dream at all."

"As would I." Blaise muttered, falling back onto the pillows. "That was…strange. And familiar."

"Yes." Virginia agreed, blowing a lock of hair away from her face. "Very familiar, and yet…vague, as well."

"It reminds me of someone, but I can't for the life of me remember who." Draco said, looking disturbed at that fact.

"Me too." Virginia and Blaise said together, sighing in frustration. She knew she'd seen those eyes before, damn it. But _where_? And why were they dreaming about them? Needing a distraction, since her life had been much too complicated in the last few weeks for her to try and wrap her mind around yet another mystery, she slid over Draco's legs and onto the thick rug. "I don't really want to think about this right now. Wanna go to the kitchens and get something to eat?"

"Sounds good." Blaise murmured, also getting to his feet. "We never ate after practicing."

"Strawberries." Draco suddenly said, almost reverently, his eyes gleaming a bit psychotically.

"What?" She asked, thoroughly confused.

"Strawberries." Blaise repeated as he put on a silver robe that was trimmed in black yeti fur and slid his feet into his knee-high boots. "He's utterly obsessed with strawberries."

"And I'm just hearing about this now, because…"

"Because Draco can't have obsessions like normal people." Blaise commented dryly, throwing Draco and her each a robe. Draco's simply hit his chest and slid to the floor, his eyes locked onto the wall and still glittering strangely. "See? He's a freak. He's obsessed with them, yes, but he only remembers once or twice a year. And when he does…Well, you can see him. It's fucking deranged."

"Alright…" Virginia said slowly, buttoning up her robe as she leaned over Draco and waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. "Yes, well, this is definitely…"

"It's okay, mon aimé. You can say it. Draco has problems. We just have to love him anyway."

"Do you think he'll even make it to the kitchens like this?" Virginia asked, and Blaise smirked. He walked over to them, and a wave of his hand had Draco's robe and boots in their proper places. On him. Then Blaise leaned in, much as Virginia had just done, except he whispered.

"Strawberries, Dray. You know you want some. Come on, follow me."

Then he held out a hand, which Draco took without even looking. Torn between worry and laughter, Virginia took his other hand, and they left their room and the Slytherin common room without being questioned on Draco's less-than-sane state. Which basically meant that their friends were all asleep. And, so it thankfully seemed, was the rest of the castle. Oh, she was sure there were plenty of students up, it _was _the last time many would see each other for two weeks after all, but they met none in the hallways, which was all that she cared about. When they made it to the kitchens, Blaise tickled the pear and they ducked inside.

"Eek!" They heard something squeak, and a second later, they were surrounded by house-elves. None of them were jabbering like usual, however, and she'd been there with her lovers enough to know that it was their presence that made the elves so formal.

"How mays we serve yous, m'lords?" One tiny elf asked, shaking from fright.

"Food. Whatever was for dinner. And for the love of Hades, don't forget the strawberries." Blaise said, and the elves disappeared immediately, except for the one who had spoken.

"This way, m'lords." It said, as if they didn't already know the way, and led them to the small dining room off to the left side of the large chamber. Since it was so late, they hadn't expected anyone to be there, so it was quite a surprise to find Hermione sitting with her head in her hands at the long table.

"Hermione?" Virginia called, and the girl's head shot up.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide and red from crying. Dried tears stained her flushed cheeks, and her hands were trembling around the mug of tea she was clutching tightly.

"Gods, Hermione, what's wrong?" Virginia asked, going to the other girl's side at once and sitting beside her. Draco and Blaise followed, Blaise more than a bit reluctant and Draco not really noticing due to his berry-haze.

"Oh, oh, it's…it's nothing." Hermione choked out, fresh tears springing to her brown eyes. Virginia uncurled the girl's fingers from around the china cup that was sure to break any second, and took them in her own, making Hermione turn to face her.

"It's not 'nothing'. What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-No, it's nothing like that, it's just…I had a fight with Ron." Hermione finally said, lowering her head. Virginia reached out with their clasped hands and forced the girl to look at her.

"A fight with Ron? About what?" She asked, and Hermione's eyes turned angry.

"He had no right to treat you like that!" She exploded, genuinely shocking Virginia and Blaise. "Absolutely no right! You're his _sister_, for Merlin's sake! And I know that we've had problems lately, but Ginny, you're like a sister to me, and I could never have done what he did! I don't have any blood siblings, so I know how precious they are. I tried to tell him that, but he said…Well, he didn't say very nice things about either of us." Hermione's cheeks reddened, and Virginia felt her ire rising again. Forcing it down, as Hermione didn't need her to freak out right then, she settled on gripping the girl's hand more firmly.

"But aren't you supposed to be going to the Burrow with him and Harry tomorrow? You could work it out then, unless you don't want to." Virginia suggested, her tone making it clear which option she would choose. Hermione gave a small sob.

"He said…He said I wasn't welcome there anymore. B-Because I took up for you. He said you were a b-blood traitor, and that if I associated with you, then I really was nothing more than a m-mudblood."

"_What!?_" Virginia burst out incredulously. Her brother was totally in love with Hermione! He would never…

"I know!" Hermione cried. "I couldn't believe it either! Harry almost hit him. Said something like '_Then what am I?_' and stormed off. They'll make up tonight, though. They always do. I'm the only expendable one." She let out a shrill laugh, and Virginia's eyes widened. She glanced at Blaise, who shrugged eloquently and went back to watching Draco eat the strawberries that she hadn't even noticed had arrived.

"You're not expendable, Hermione. And I don't think I ever apologized for calling you the same thing." Virginia said, and she almost threw a spoonful of the pudding by her elbow at Blaise when he snorted. _Almost_. She didn't feel like having this turn into a very messy food fight, which it was sure to do if she hit him with tapioca.

"Don't worry about it." Hermione said morosely. "At least you had a reason. You weren't in your right mind anyway, which was completely understandable. But Ron…"

"Didn't he try to curse Draco for doing the same thing? Ended up puking worms or something." Blaise commented wryly, a silver goblet in his hand and his cerulean eyes following yet another berry that was about to meet its end.

"Yes. And it was slugs." Hermione said, a ghost of a smile on her lips before it disappeared as swiftly as it came. "What am I going to do, Ginny? I can't stay here because I didn't sign up, and if I go home, my parents are going to ask endless questions…Maybe I could go with Parvati." She finished weakly, obviously not relishing the idea. An idea formed in Virginia's mind, and she gulped. But it seemed the only thing to do, really…

"You could come with us." She offered, and almost jumped out of her skin when something crashed onto the floor. Turning, she saw that Blaise had actually dropped his goblet, and years upon years of facial control seemed to have deserted him as he stared at her in open-mouthed horror. Draco continued eating strawberries, clueless as to their conversation, which was probably for the best.

"Et vous perdu votre esprit?" Blaise hissed, and Virginia steeled herself. ((Have you lost your mind?))

"No. And it won't be that bad."

"Are you kidding me? A mudblood in a Manor full of Slytherins for two weeks? Let alone in _that_ Manor. The house itself will try to get her for even being there. And there's our pets…"

"Is there a way around that?" She asked, and he looked away, his smooth, sculpted jaw ticking.

"Yes." He finally spat out. "As long as she never goes anywhere without a pureblood at her side. Shall we hire a babysitter?"

"Very funny." Virginia sighed. Hermione stayed silent, not looking at any of them. Draco continued to eat strawberries.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Blaise snapped, then took a deep breath, and continued in a much steadier tone, "I refuse to be pleased about this."

"I know." Virginia said, grinning slightly. "I'm not asking you to be. But I just can't stand the thought of sending her to spend Yule alone." Seeing that he wasn't breaking, she added, "With _muggles_. Would you bestow that fate upon _anyone_?" He gave her a withering look.

"Nice try. But I'm afraid I don't care if she has to spend Yule in a bloody fucking _cave _as long as she's not with _me_."

"Oh, come on, Blaise!" Virginia changed tactics, and decided to try to sway him for the same reason that she had decided it was a good idea. "Do you really want Ron to think he's won again? If she has to go home, he will! And the last thing I want right now is for that bastard to think any higher of himself. Please?" She added for good measure, and Blaise closed his eyes.

"You really want this?" He asked, sounding resigned.

"Yes."

"Fine." He said, waving a hand at Hermione dismissively. "But she'd better have her shit ready to go at eight. And gods help us all when Draco snaps back into reality. He's never going to forgive me." Virginia stood and pounced into his lap, laying kisses all over his face.

"Thank you!" She said, smiling at him. "I'll tell him it was my fault. It won't be too horrible, you'll see. You can show off how much better you have it or something." She teased, and he graced her with a small smirk. She gave him a last, lingering kiss, before taking her seat next to Hermione again.

"So you'll come, right?" She asked, and Hermione finally looked up, her eyes wary.

"I don't know, Ginny…"

"After all that trouble I just went through?" Virginia laid it on thick, her face falling into a pout. Hermione flinched, and then nodded hesitantly.

"Alright. I'll go."

"Go where?" The voice had them spinning around, to find that Draco was done with the gigantic bowl of strawberries, the red stains from the fruit making his usually frost-blue lips almost purple. Blaise was scooting minutely away from him, and seemed to be bracing himself. Virginia thought that was a rather excellent idea, and did the same.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione stood nervously outside of Snape's office door, really not wanting to knock. What the hell had she gotten herself into? What in the hell had she been thinking to accept an invitation to _Malfoy Manor_? Damn Ron! If he hadn't been such a prick, she wouldn't be standing there at seven fifty-eight in the morning, about to willingly put herself in a snake den much worse than any at Hogwarts. She must have lost her fucking wits sometime between last night and early this morning in the kitchens. Taking a deep breath, she knocked three times and let her fist fall. Right when she was about to give up and leave, the door swung open.

The room was full of trunks and green-robed students, and Snape stood in their center, telling them to all shut up and get in some sort of order. Many of the Slytherins trickled out after a minute, leaving Ginny, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Anton, Melody, Daphne, Crabbe, Goyle and Snape behind, along with Hermione herself, of course. Ginny spotted her and called her over to where they were all standing in front of the fireplace. The office was sparsely, but richly, decorated, and all in the colors of Slytherin; silver, green and black. The fireplace was roaring and crackling, and there was a large pot of floo powder sitting on an ornate silver stand next to it.

"We're flooing?" Hermione asked Ginny nervously. Gods, could her stomach be twisted in any more knots?

"To the Manor's carriage station. We'll ride from there." Ginny replied, her cheeks glowing with anticipation.

"And the wards?"

"Oh, they won't be a problem." Ginny said, grinning at her. "Not in one of the carriages. Only those triggered into the wards can call the carriages into existence, and it'll take us safely through. Dray says it's easier that way with so many of us going. Less chance of accidents."

"Oh." Hermione responded weakly. "Accidents. Great." Ginny looked at her, cocking her head to the side, blood red hair falling over one eye.

"Don't be so nervous, 'Mione. Come on, it's time to go." The girl said, and took her hand, leading her to the fireplace. Everyone shrunk their trunks and other belongings, and Draco took a pinch of the powder, throwing it in the flames.

"The Crossways!" He said, and disappeared into the fire.

Ginny went next, and then Hermione. It felt much the same as the ride to their Alexandria office had, smooth and easy, but quite a bit shorter. She came out in a large marble foyer that was done completely in black, the torches the only light in the room. She moved forward as Pansy stepped out behind her, and the others soon followed. Once they were all there, Draco led them down a dark hallway that went off to the side, and they walked for a good three or four minutes before they came to a door. Draco mumbled something and it sprung open, and the sunshine almost blinded her. They'd come to some sort of courtyard.

It was surrounded by the tall black walls of the building, and she couldn't see anyway out, not even up since the top was glassed over. Draco walked to a plaque that hung on the far wall and that had his family's coat of arms emblazoned on it, before slicing his hand and laying it on the platinum surface. There was a deep rumbling noise, followed by a dull 'boom' to their left. Hermione turned as a giant carriage took shape on the snow-free grass, swirling out of a cloud of dark mist. It was black and lined in silver, and there were no horses of any kind to be seen. It looked old, yet brand new, and she marveled over the detail in the silver engravings.

"Let's go." Ginny said, nudging her ribs and walking for the carriage.

Everyone piled inside, and it was even larger than it had appeared. The walls were made of black velvet, the long, cushioned seats of leather, and the carpet under their feet was softer than any she'd ever felt. The side walls were mostly two huge windows that weren't visible from the outside, giving them a perfect view. There were brackets for torches, but seeing as it was early morning, they weren't needed. A wet bar sat against the back wall, rows of wine- and shot-glasses alike lining the surface, while two heavy, ebony doors were built into the bottom, and that was where she presumed the liquor was. She was proven right soon enough.

"Who wants a drink?" Blaise asked, stretching as he walked for the bar. Ginny went with him while everyone said that they did, and the two of them started mixing drinks. Hermione turned to one of the windows and started. The carriage was moving down a long, country drive that was lined with trees that met over their heads, and she hadn't even felt them move, let alone leave the courtyard.

"Here." Ginny said from beside her a few minutes later, and Hermione eagerly took the glass she held out to her. She wasn't usually a drinker, but her nerves were shot to hell. The alcohol burned down her throat and spread through her belly, and after a few more long gulps, she felt herself unwinding a bit. She also felt eyes on her, and looked up to find the Slytherins regarding her with unconcealed amusement.

"You _are_ aware of what that is you're drinking, aren't you?" Anton asked, his own glass mostly full compared to hers. She shook her head. "Then you've had more than enough." He said dryly, taking another small sip of his own milky green alcohol. _Wait_, Hermione's slightly addled brain intoned, _green!? _How had she not noticed that before? What the hell was she drinking? Ginny seemed to know what she was thinking.

"It's Absinthe, Hermione." The girl said, a crooked grin on her rosy lips.

"La Fée Verte!" The Slytherins crooned, clinking their glasses together in a toast and draining most of what was left of their drinks. ((The Green Fairy!))

"Oh lord." Hermione mumbled, looking at the glass in her hand and back up at Ginny, who smirked.

"It's not as bad as you think." Ginny said, as Blaise pushed a panel on the wall. A small table appeared out of nowhere in front of him, and a quick summoning spell had a dark bottle, a metal cylinder container, a spoon and sugar cubes zooming towards him.

They settled themselves on the table, and he sat his empty glass down, filling it with a good amount of more green liquor, except it was darker then what they were drinking. She soon realized why. He put the spoon over his glass, and she saw that it was slotted. Then he placed a sugar cube on it and shook the cylinder, which rattled and sloshed, before popping the cap off with his thumb. What she assumed was ice water dribbled over the sugar cube and into the glass, and she watched in fascination as the liquor louched, turning the same cloudy green as the drink in her hand. He refilled everyone's that asked for it, while Hermione's vision swam a bit.

"You okay?" Ginny asked, watching her closely as she finished off her own glass.

Hermione nodded, and it wasn't much of a lie. She _was_ okay, just…floaty. She'd only been drunk once before, and she wasn't really drunk now, just mellow and sort of carefree. The Slytherins soon began chatting quietly amongst themselves, while Ginny got wrapped up in a conversation on different Irish truth potions with her boyfriends and Snape. Hermione turned to the window once more, and saw that they had come out of the shadowy passage through the trees and were traveling along the top of a large hill lengthways. Nothing but white, snowy fields and dense forests sprawled in every direction around and below them.

It was cultivated, but in a very natural way. Every once in a while, she would catch sight of the famous winged horses that they were known to breed, or a small nook hidden in the tree line with fountains and benches. Occasionally, she would swear something huge moved through the trees, but she could never get a clear look, and whether it was due to the alcohol or the thick foliage that was still on the trees even in winter, she wasn't sure. There were also odd rock formations every mile or so, but as for what their purpose was, she didn't know and wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to. It was after one of those that she glimpsed a herd of unicorns in the distance and gasped.

"Unicorns!" She breathed in awe, having loved the creatures since they'd seen them in Care of Magical Creatures. Ginny turned and vaulted over Hermione, pressing her face against the glass.

"Ooooh, I adore unicorns." She said happily, her eyes locked onto the creatures' as they drank from a shallow creek after the stallion broke the ice with one huge hoof. The sunlight glinted of their silver and white coats, and a flash of gold testified that they had a relatively young one with them as well.

"There are three herds on the property." Draco said, leaning back against the seat and sipping his third or fourth drink. "Mother loves them. One of the mares even let her fix its broken leg once. We can go out to see them sometime soon, if you'd like."

"Really?" Ginny asked excitedly, turning to face him when they rounded a bend and entered a stretch of forest. Hermione was teeming with questions, desperately wanting to know why all of the trees still had leaves, even while they were iced over and weighed down with snow, but she stayed silent.

"Yes." Draco replied. "Mum and Silana can show you the best places to look for them."

"That would be awesome." Ginny said wistfully, turning to look back out the window. "It's beautiful here."

"Yes, it is." Pansy said, looking up from a book she had in her lap that she'd been using to show Anton something. "I've always loved coming here. It gives you a sense of peace knowing that there's nothing around for miles and miles except nature." Hermione silently agreed, knowing exactly what she meant.

"How much longer should it take us before we reach the Manor?" Hermione asked curiously, and Snape laughed.

"A good forty-five minutes at the best." He said, looking out of his window. _Wow, _she thought. _It takes almost an hour and a half to get down their driveway? _Resuming her sight-seeing, the time seemed to fly. It really was incredibly beautiful, like some winter wonderland straight out of a fairy tale. Drifting off into slightly fuzzy daydreams, Draco's voice startled her out of her daze quite a while later.

"Ah, good. We've arrived." He said, and she snapped her head around, sucking in a breath.

A seemingly never-ending wall rose and rose into the winter sky, and the imposing black stone stretched to either side with no end in sight. The front of the carriage became transparent, and directly in front of them were two huge doors made of the same stone, forming a gate in the wall. At first, she thought the gigantic shapes to either side of the gate were statues, until they moved to block the way, wings the size of an airplane's stretching out and fanning snow in every direction. A strangled scream catching in her throat, she could do nothing but stare at the dragons and their riders as the telltale icy cold seeped into her bones and thoughts.

The dragons looked like the same type Harry had fought during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but they were even larger, and the creatures on their backs were most assuredly Dementors. The tall, hooded figures swooped off of the dragons, flying straight for the carriage. Willing herself not to panic, Hermione looked around and saw that no one else looked very surprised. Ginny shot her an apologetic look, as if she'd forgotten, while Draco stood and left the carriage, taking Blaise with him and going out to meet the damnable creatures. The two Slytherins walked up to them and the Dementors actually bowed, putting a clawed fist on their chests as they did so.

"Are they _insane_?" Hermione finally exclaimed.

"Of course not." Anton replied. "There are Dementors all throughout the grounds, barring the Manor itself."

"_What?_" Hermione choked out, hoping she wasn't about to faint as her head started swimming. At least the bone-chilling cold had dispersed after the Dementors had bowed.

"It's a relatively new development." Pansy supplied, looking more than a bit delighted with Hermione's nervous fear. "The Dementors wouldn't answer to their fathers, but they will to them. They're drawn to them."

"Drawn to them." Hermione repeated feebly.

"Yes. They're the ones who came looking for Draco and Blaise, not the other way around."

"And what happens when they change their minds and decide to start sucking souls left and right?" Hermione asked, a slightly hysterical note in her voice. _Bloody Dementors_, she thought wildly. _You've got to be joking._

"They won't." Pansy laughed. "They offered to take the only oath among their kind that means anything, and tied themselves to Dray and Blaise. They won't hurt anyone under their protection."

"Oh, oh, that's _great_." Hermione mumbled. "And what if some muggle happened to wander too close to the property? They wouldn't even be able to see them before they were dead." No one said anything. "Oh gods. You don't even _care_, do you?" She accused.

"Not particularly." Melody answered carefully. "But it's not a problem, so don't go all pro-muggle on us. Muggles can't cross the wards, and the Dementors won't without leave to go feed."

"'_Leave_ _to go feed'_? Feed on _what_, exactly?"

But no one ever answered her, their attention outside once more. She followed their line of sight and felt her heart skip a beat. The Dementors had kneeled down (which still put them at almost the same height as Draco and Blaise), but that wasn't what terrified her. Seeing the two Slytherins stay completely still while the Dementors kissed them is what got to her. She yelped, thinking that they were _Kissing_ kissing them, but they pulled back almost immediately and got back onto the dragons. Draco and Blaise turned and walked back to the carriage, a gust of cold air and snow following them in, and both looked okay except for large, blue lip prints on their cheeks.

"I can't believe you let those things touch you." Hermione said, barely even realizing that she was speaking aloud.

"They're not that bad." Blaise said evenly as he and Draco sat back down. "They just need direction. And understanding."

"'_Understanding_'?" She questioned. "What's to understand? They're soulless and evil." Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps." He agreed. "But everything serves a purpose. Even them."

"Yes, yes." Draco said distractedly, and lifted a hand.

His signet ring flashed, and a low rumbling turned her attention to the gate once more. It seemed to be shaking and shimmering, and an instant later, it was gone. The carriage moved forward again, the dragons moving back, and they passed under the new archway. When they came out on the other side, she knew her mouth fell open. _Manor_ didn't quite cover it. It was more like a palace. Much more. It rose out of the countryside as if it belonged there, all dark stone and forest green trimming, and it was built right into the side of a mountain that they hadn't even been able to see before, due to the trees and the guard wall.

The Manor stood eight stories high, and stretched across a huge expanse of ground. She could see around one side from the angle they were approaching it, and realized it was even more massive than she'd thought at first glance. The driveway curved, making a huge circle up to the front doors and then away from them. A black marble awning was positioned over the entranceway, so that no one would get wet if it happened to be raining or snowing, as it currently was. There were seven enormous stables to the left, and a heated (as was obvious by the steam) pool, that was almost the size of a small lake, with diving boards and rope swings to the right.

The entire front lawn, but for the drive, was an enormous garden that was still in bloom, the vibrant petals sticking out shockingly against the crystalline white snow. Black lattice choked with ivy formed covered walkways and secluded nooks throughout the expanse of flowers and exotic plants, and she caught glimpses of numerous magical creatures. Crups and Red Caps, Snidgets and Acromantulas, others she couldn't even name, and there appeared to be a miniature snowball fight going on between fairies and doxies. She looked over all of it that she could see, speechless. _The gods only know what might be behind this place_, she thought absently.

They pulled up underneath the awning a few minutes later and got out, stretching their legs gratefully. The carriage disappeared on its own after the last person stepped out, and they were about to go inside when they heard a whoosh of air. Before anyone could say anything, Narcissa and Silana landed on the snow a few feet from them, dressed in identical silver Quidditch robes. Both of their cheeks were flushed and their hair was coming out of their tight, constraining buns, wisping around their smiling faces. They dropped their brooms on the ground carelessly, sweeping their sons into hugs. Soft, quiet words were spoken before both women embraced Ginny and Severus.

"It's so good to have you all here!" Narcissa said, wrapping the other Slytherins in tight hugs as well before stepping back. Something in her pocket was vibrating and wiggling, and a Snitch zoomed out a second later. Narcissa snatched it out of the air surprisingly quickly, and actually looked slightly sheepish when Blaise and Draco gave her knowing grins.

"You still can't remember to leave it behind, can you?" Blaise asked teasingly, and she slapped his arm.

"Shut up, you." She said, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. Hermione felt eyes on her and looked up to find Silana regarding her silently. Wanting to break the silence, Hermione said the first thing that came to mind.

"I didn't know you played."

"Hmph." The woman huffed. "You're not the first to think they got their skill from their fathers. Bunch of rubbish." Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"_Mother_." Blaise interceded, shooting Hermione a death glare before the woman turned to him. "She's a guest." He finished simply, and Silana looked at him for the barest moment before nodding.

"As you wish." She said, a hint of distaste still lacing her low, refined voice. She was a beautiful woman, as beautiful as Narcissa (which was saying something), and each had long, flowing, white-blond hair. Both had blue eyes as pale and icy as a wolf's, and neither looked a day over twenty-seven, tops.

"Alright, come along, now." Narcissa said, moving for the ornately carved, ebony front doors. They opened before she reached them, and everyone went inside, brushing the last of the snow off of their cloaks and robes. Right before the doors closed behind them, Hermione saw a house elf appear, grab the women's brooms, and disappear. Turning back, she stifled yet another gasp.

The entrance hall looked like something out of a dream. The floor and pillars were green-veined, black marble, and the walls and ceiling were covered with giant, moving murals that showed scenes from the ancient legends of their people. It was oddly like being _inside_ a huge piece of art, rather than just _looking_ at art. The murals continued, and eventually, she stopped trying to soak everything in as they walked down hall after extravagant hall. Her trance was broken when four huge dogs tore down the hallway, and slid to a stop as they spotted Draco and Blaise. They immediately hid behind them, and the two Slytherins glanced at them warily. She looked closer and realized that they were still puppies. _Lord, how big do they get? _

"Bloody savages!" A voice yelled from around the corner. Hermione got quite a shock when a banshee came into view. Tall and willowy, she had the floor-length black hair of all of her kindred, as well as the green-tinted skin. She was as thin as could be, with black pupils and irises, while the rest of her eyes were the same pale green as her skin. Her gaze fell on Draco and Blaise, who actually fidgeted under her glare. "Ooooh," she crooned, "Just who I was looking for, young Master Malfoy, Master Zabini. GET YOUR BLOODY DOGS AND KEEP THEM AWAY FROM MY KITCHENS!" The banshee then turned on a heel, sweetly said, "Welcome home, babies," and disappeared. Blaise and Draco glared at the pups.

"We're not home for five minutes, and already you evil little buggers get us yelled at by Keravin." Draco said, and the dogs had the grace to look bashful. "Well," he continued, "you know what has to be done." The pups began shaking their huge, furry heads. "Nasha! Kalan!"

Hermione grinned then, as she'd heard Draco and Blaise talking about the two dogs that they'd had almost their entire lives, and who had been the founders of the three kennels somewhere on the property, and three more at Blaise's estate. But the stories that they'd told the Slytherins who had never seen them before (and that she'd overheard during the trips to the dungeons that she, Ron and Harry had taken to visit Ginny) didn't prepare her for the actual thing. Those were definitely_ not _normal dogs. Because the two gigantic hounds, which looked like huskies but were built like mastiffs, didn't look nearly as old as they should've, and their heads came up almost to their owners' shoulders.

She could practically _ride_ one of them, not that she had any intention to try. They fell all over Draco and Blaise, yipping happily, before backing away suddenly and gathering around their pups, which had started to whine. The two young men's eyes lit up, while Pansy and the other Slytherins looked wary, but not terrified, so Hermione took that as a good sign. Then she almost fainted. Cats don't _come_ in that size, except for the Nundu. Haven't for _thousands of years_. If the black and white giant that stood at eye level with them and still had all four feet on the ground was their 'baby kitten', then she needed to start exaggerating their stories for them.

"Hello beautiful." Blaise cooed, fearlessly wrapping his hands in the cat's fur, while Draco did the same. A huge pink tongue darted out and loud purring filled the hallway.

"Where is Letalis?" Draco asked, and almost as soon as he spoke, an even _larger_ cat stalked down the hall towards them. To her horror, Hermione saw a little fear enter the watching Slytherins' eyes. The cat stopped in between Draco and Blaise and leaned into their scratching fingers, before its gaze landed on Ginny.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia did nothing as the giant cat walked towards her, a predatory gleam in its dark eyes. She knew that it was a male as the cat moved closer, and for some reason, she didn't feel afraid. Muscles rippled under its stripped fur as it paced closer to her, the black and white contrasting beautifully. Its eyes were a dark, purplish-red, and they burned with an almost startling intelligence. It held the stare as it got ever nearer to her, and she met it unflinchingly, not even so much as blinking. It stopped in front of her and sat on its haunches, its nostrils flaring as it drew in her scent. She reached out a cautious hand, wanting to run her fingers through its fur, when Anton spoke.

"I wouldn't do that. Letalis isn't like the others..." He started, but then stopped as the huge cat bumped her hand with its head and purred, deep and low. It leaned forward, and a huge pink tongue scratched her cheek as the purring got louder. Sitting back again, it lifted a huge paw up between them and flipped it over so that the pads faced up, before extending it to her.

She instinctively recognized the show of trust immediately. She put herself in danger by exposing her wrist to those retractable claws, and it risked the sensitive pads of its feet to human trickery. She placed her hand palm down on its paw immediately, looking into those eyes that seemed to see right through her. It flexed, and she felt the softest brush of claws before they were gone and it was purring again. It lowered its paw and circled her slowly, rubbing sleek fur against her skin. It stopped after the third circle, and sat to the side of her, purring while she scratched behind its huge, furry ears. She looked up and saw that Blaise and Draco were grinning, while Hermione's eyes were huge and her other friends' mouths were hanging open slightly.

"What?" She asked, wondering why most of them were staring at her as if she'd sprouted a third arm.

"Letalis is extremely violent towards strangers at times," Narcissa said as one of the pups came up to her. "And he never likes any of them. Well, until now, that is." She added, smirking. The smirk didn't last long, however, when Hermione fidgeted and drew the eyes of not only the two cats, but the dogs as well. Growls filled the air immediately, and Hermione paled until she looked like a pasty sheet.

"Knock it off." Draco said, looking as if he'd rather tell them to attack. The animals quieted down gradually, but their eyes stayed locked onto Hermione. They hadn't noticed her through their initial excitement over their masters being home, but Virginia was almost positive that Hermione wasn't going to have a minute after this without furry faces following her everywhere. When Blaise grinned evilly a moment later, that belief was solidified.

"You know what?" Her raven-haired lover asked, his eyes glinting menacingly as he watched their pets watch Hermione. "I think we just found that babysitter."

"_What?_" Hermione burst out. "But they'll _eat _me. Especially one of those…those _Nundu_ things."

"Nundu?" Draco questioned sarcastically. "Okay, for one, Nundu are leopards. And they hate it inside."

"I know they're leopards." Hermione said. "But it was the only cat that I could think of that's so large, and--Wait…what do you mean '_they_ _hate it inside_'? Do you actually _have_ some of them here?" She looked around as if expecting something to jump out at her from the shadows. Which probably wasn't too unlikely…

"Yes, but like I said, it's not as if they're _inside_." Draco rolled his eyes. Hermione simply stared at him as if he were insane.

"Enough about the cats." Silana interceded. "We'll meet you in the family dining room, hmm? I'm guessing that Virginia will share a room with you two," she shot a look at her son and Draco, "and the others know where their rooms are. Pansy?"

"Yes, my la-Silana?" She changed words abruptly when Silana shot her an exasperated look.

"Would you mind showing Hermione to an empty room somewhere in the wing yours are in?"

"Of course. I'll show her to the dining room as well." Pansy agreed, keeping her face neutral until Silana, Narcissa and Severus were gone around another corner.

"I cannot _believe_ that you've let a mudblood into the Manor, Draco. Whatever are you going to do when a Lethifold gets her?" A voice said from behind them, and they turned to see one of the family portraits scowling down at them. It had the silvery hair of all the Malfoys, but its eyes were a light blue instead of gray or silver. "Her presence here is quite blasphemous."

"Oh, yes. It was really _my_ choice, Damian." Draco hissed, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"You control the Manor. It _was_ your choice." The portrait bit back, crossing its arms over its chest gracefully.

"Was it? Did you always get everything you wanted? Let's go find Gabrielle and ask her." Draco purred, and the portrait actually paled.

"That won't be necessary." It said, its eyes narrowing into a pretty potent glare for a painting.

"I didn't think it would be." Draco commented dryly. "Come on." He said to the others, and they started back down the hall. The dogs all ran off in different directions, except one, while both cats stayed with them. The dog kept bumping Draco's hand, before it finally licked him.

"Hey!" Draco said. "Damn it, I _told _you." He said, glowering at the dog. "I may like you, but you're _still_ a canine. Gods, that's gross." Blaise shot him a sympathetic look, but couldn't hide his smirk completely as they continued walking. Three staircases and a million turns later, they came to a large, open room filled with more plants. In fact, almost the entire Manor was filled with them. Virginia loved it. Everywhere you turned, something green and alive was there to greet you. Two twisting staircases led from the room, one going to the left, the other to the right.

"We'll see you in a little while, alright?" Pansy said as she and the other Slytherins started up the left set, Hermione trailing them, and the dog followed at a lazy hand signal from Blaise. Virginia and Draco nodded at Pansy in agreement, and as soon as the others were out of sight, Virginia's boyfriends took her hands and pulled her, laughing, down a small side corridor.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they passed the last torch and all fell into darkness. Her eyes adjusted immediately, since, unlike a cat, she didn't need even the smallest bit of light to see as long as the circumstances were…normal.

"To our room." They said simply. It wasn't long before light became visible again, and they came out in another open room much like the last. They led her to a plaque on the wall that was the same as the one in the stables, and stopped in front of it.

"There are quite a few of these all over the grounds." Draco explained. "We'll key you into them later tonight. All you have to do is cut your hand like I did at the carriage station earlier, and put in on it. No one else can get in, even if they had our blood. Give me your hand. You'll have to come with me this time." He said, and she intertwined her fingers with his.

He cut his hand and laid it on the plaque. A moment later, dark blue light enveloped them from head to foot, and she felt herself…disintegrate. It was quite unlike portkeying or Apparating (which they had taught her to do on excursions past the castle's wards), but it was over soon enough. A breeze tickled her face, and she looked up, unable to stifle her delighted gasp. It was the most beautiful room she'd ever seen, more beautiful than she ever could have imagined. The walls were enchanted much like their bedroom walls back at Hogwarts, and looked as if the night itself had been poured into them.

It didn't seem as if there was a roof, but she knew that there had to be, since the sky she was looking at certainly wasn't the sky that she was familiar with. Bloody looking twin moons were barely visible in the soft, yet bright, moonlight (which was somehow still silvery), and the sky was a multitude of brilliant colors. Green faded into blue, which faded into purple, which faded into black, and the pattern kept repeating in brilliant stripes. Stars shown everywhere, along with novas and comets and nebulas, and she stared in wonder at the alien sky for a long time before snapping out of the trance it had her in, and looking at the rest of her surroundings.

The canopied bed against one wall was huge, and it could easily sleep at least five people comfortably. It was made out of a strange, dark, rich wood that was engraved with symbols she didn't recognize, although some seemed vaguely familiar. The canopy's curtains were blue and black, as were the numerous amounts of pillows piled on top of the bed. The silk sheets were blacker than the hangings, and were strewn with slowly revolving planets and glowing mercury stars. Thick, scrumptious looking furs were piled at the foot of the bed (she recognized them immediately for yeti and werewolf), and she knew that they would be as insanely soft as they appeared.

The rest of the furnishings were ancient and elegant, made from the same black wood as the enormous bed. A desk stacked with scrolls, quills and ink sat against the far left wall, and an open door right beside it allowed her to glimpse a room full of books, vials and various other objects, magickal and non-magickal alike. In the center of the huge bedroom, three green-cushioned divans sat in a circle around a tiled fire pit that was built right into the emerald-veined, black marble floor. More rugs were scattered over the ground, candles floated in midair everywhere, and the room was full of leafy, rainforest-type plants and flowers, which she knew was their preference.

They loved the concealing thickness of it all, loved the different scents that were unlike any others in their world, loved the dark vibrancy of the colors, and she had to admit, so did she. There were also roses, climbing the starry walls and stopping at the ceiling, their dark green vines and black, blood-tipped petals swaying in the gentle breeze and making the stars seem to flicker and dance. To the far right, a section of the wall was obscured by silver fog, and she walked towards it curiously. She stopped in front of it and experimentally stuck a hand through the glittery mist, and when nothing happened, she went through.

Was it even possible to hallucinate such utter beauty? She didn't think so, which is what made her decide that she wasn't crazy. It was as if she'd just stepped into space. Literally. Everything was darkness but for the stars shining everywhere, and when she took a step forward, her foot sunk into steaming, swirling water. It was like a liquid sky. Another step and the stars above her began falling, turning into snow as they tumbled down. The sky flashed green and lit up briefly, before more colored flashes followed and lightning danced madly around her, as if she were in the middle of an electric snowstorm.

Smiling broadly, she stepped back and out of the mist, the thorny walls of their bedroom solidifying around her once more. Turning, she continued surveying the room. There was an obsidian-tiled path that disappeared into the wall directly across from where the bed was, and she followed it. She passed right through the wall, just as she had thought she would, and found herself outside in the sunlight once more, on a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Black sand and cerulean blue water stretched for as far as she could see, until it the beach curved and the rest blended in with the horizon. The salty air whipped past her, and she knew where the breeze had come from now.

Right at the water's edge was an oasis, on a small strip of beach far beneath her, with a circle of palm trees, ripe with coconuts, shading a small clearing from the sun. Even from where she sat, she could see that the grass looked sinfully soft, and exotic flowers and fruit were growing here and there. Thinking about how a muggle would react if they saw black sand in France, let alone a tropical oasis, even on the Mediterranean Sea, she smiled. She could hear the waves crashing against the cliff face where the beach was nothing more than a foot long strip, and she knew she would be spending many nights laid out on the thick grass underneath her feet, soaking up the atmosphere of serenity.

"Do you approve, mon âme?" Draco whispered in her ear and she jumped, having been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard him and Blaise approach her from behind.

"Very much so." She murmured, leaning back against him and pulling Blaise closer to them. "But where did the black sand come from? There aren't any volcanoes around here."

"It's been here since before my grandfather was born." Draco replied, kissing the top of her head. "Imported, I suppose. I never bothered to ask. It's always just…been there."

"The idea that we might actually be able to relax here for two whole weeks seems almost too good to be true." She sighed longingly.

"We can if we don't leave." Blaise said, playing with hers and Draco's hair. "Voldemort couldn't get past the wards around this place even if he had an army. It's one of the safest places in the world, and definitely the safest in France. But I don't really see us staying cooped up here the whole time." Then he paused, and added, "Not that that would be bad, on second thought. Yes, we could just stay here. There's plenty to do." Virginia rolled her eyes.

"I don't think so." She said, smirking at him. "You're not getting out of mingling with the muggles that easily."

"Damn." He sneered, then sniffed. "_Fine_. But if I die of boredom or some weird disease, I'm never going to forgive you."

"I'm sure you'll survive." Virginia snickered, wondering at the fact that her boyfriends would willingly, and quite gleefully, submerge themselves in a life-threatening, gory battle, but balked at having to spend a few hours around muggles. There was a soft 'pop' to their left, and a house elf appeared, bowing low before speaking.

"Master Malfoy, Master Zabini, m'ladies Narcissa and Silana be wantin' yous to go down ta the cove for you lunch instea' of the dinin' room." They nodded, and she continued. "Wills you be needin' anything else, m'lords?"

"No. Tell them that we'll be there in a moment." Draco said, and the house elf bowed again, disappearing with another 'pop'. "Well, come on. Let's go." He said, and when they made to move, Virginia felt a sharp tug on her hair that pulled her back and into Draco once more. He hissed at the same time she did, and Blaise's mocking laughter had their hisses turning into growls. They looked up to find their lover almost bent double with mirth, and soon realized what had happened. The sly, sneaky bastard hadn't been _playing_ with their hair. He'd tied the red and silver locks together in a tight, elaborate knot.

"_Blaise!_"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione followed the Slytherins through the maze that was Malfoy Manor, as they all made their way down to the cove like the house elf had informed them to do. She was still slightly amazed at the pure extravagance of the home around her, and at the thought that had been put into each piece of furniture and art. It was huge, but it didn't feel empty and haunted like she'd feared. It was teeming with life of all kinds, and she would have felt completely at ease were it not for the dark magick that saturated the very walls, and if those walls hadn't felt as if they were constantly watching her. Shivering, she sped up so she wouldn't lose the others.

The dog that had followed them to their rooms was still at her heels, and she got the feeling that it wasn't going to leave her be anytime soon. The room that Pansy had told her to use had been the opposite of what she'd expected. Instead of being small and dreary like what she'd figured they would give her, it had been as richly decorated as the rest of the house. Everything had been done in light, airy blues and pale, creamy reds. She got the impression that the colors were for her benefit, since most everything else was darkly shaded, but how the room had been prepared so quickly, she had no idea. All she knew was that it was beautiful and infinitely better then what she'd been hoping for.

They finally reached a room on the forth floor, which was wall-less on one side, and Hermione could hear the ocean. Top-of-the-line brooms were placed in stands along the two side walls, and each of the Slytherins took one. They were talking amongst themselves, and she wondered if she could fade into the floor. She couldn't fly. The only people she'd ever flown with before were Ron and Harry, and one time with Viktor. She hated it, hated feeling the ground so very far away, and she knew she couldn't manage on her own. The thought of telling the Slytherins that was mortifying, but she didn't want to end up as nothing more than a splat on the rocks.

"Umm…" She started slowly, and when none of them looked over, busy fastening their cloaks against the cool wind, she cleared her throat loudly.

"What is it, Granger?" Anton snapped, and she flinched. Feeling foolish, she didn't meet his eyes.

"I can't fly." She mumbled, hoping they heard her since she _really_ didn't want to repeat it.

"_What_? Did you just say that you _can't fly_?" He asked in disbelief, and she looked up to see that his expression matched his voice. "Every witch can fly!"

"Well, I can't." She said, feeling tears start to sting her eyes. Forcing them down, she told herself that under no circumstances would she let them see her cry.

"You've got to be fucking with me." He said, and then turned to his friends. "Well, who wants to do it?" Crabbe and Goyle immediately shook their heads, as did Melody and Daphne. Anton looked at Pansy almost desperately.

"No way." The tall Slytherin girl said, tucking her dark brown hair behind one ear. "I _always_ have to do shit when it comes to her."

"Great." He said sarcastically, and turned to Hermione. "Come on." He said, motioning her over. She went to his side slowly, and then stood indecisively. "What are you waiting for?" He questioned, his voice carrying a hard edge.

"How…"

"Sweet gods." He said under his breath, then louder, "Just get on."

So she did, throwing one leg over the broom and rearranging her robes. He slid on behind her, and the other Slytherins mounted as well, sweeping out of the open wall with even more grace then they had on land, and that was saying something. Anton's arms wrapped around her waist, gripping the handle of the broom, and they shot out after the others, the dog's barking following them. Her stomach dropped and she fought being sick as she saw that they were even farther off the ground then she'd thought, since the earth dropped by way of a steep cliff, and all that was underneath them was water. Closing her eyes, she took several steadying breaths before opening them again.

They were farther out over the waves by then, and Anton flexed his right hand, which had them turning in a wide arch and then diving. Gritting her teeth and nearly biting her tongue in an effort not to shriek at the top of her lungs, she thanked every god she could name when they straightened out again. Looking forward, she saw that they were approaching a cove that was carved into the cliff face itself, protected on all sides except from the front. Draco, Ginny and Blaise were already there, as were their mothers and Snape. Anton landed them smoothly on the small, black-sanded beach, and Hermione did a double take. _Black sand? _She thought wonderingly. _Where in the hell are we? _

"Ready to eat?" Narcissa asked, gesturing to the picnic set out on the ground on a low table.

It was laden with food and bottles of chilled wine, and Hermione felt her stomach growl. There were fruits of all kinds, many that she didn't even recognize, salads, breads, seven or eight different kinds of cheese, sliced meat, pasta and a range of desserts. Cushions had been placed around it on the sand, and they all sat down, filling their plates and talking in cheerful, contented voices. Hermione stayed mostly quiet, however, content to eat and watch them. They seemed different then they did at school, more open and expressive, and she realized why with a jolt. There was no one here for them to be guarded around. The Manor was safe, and they didn't have to worry about being attacked or stared at hatefully.

They were alone among their own kind, excluding her, and it seemed to make a world of difference. They were still refined, still graceful and elegant with every movement that they made, but that was more unconscious then anything else. And they weren't being loud and boisterous as most people would be in a similar situation, just…_happy_. Genuinely so. It was a new experience for her to see them like that, and one that she found she rather enjoyed. Sipping her goblet of Chateau d'Yquem and idly eating Crème Brûlée, the saltwater breeze rustling her hair and their voices lulling her, she only snapped back into reality when a statement from Narcissa caught her attention. She should have known that the peace couldn't last forever.

"Oh, darlings, did I mention that I invited the Weasleys over for Yule?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hehehehe…Please tell me what you thought! That means REVIEW, people, _review_! (Okay, I admit, I get a _bit_ fanatical about reviews)…/grins sheepishly/…So…Review!


	18. Frustra Esse

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to my beloved reviewers: tkmoore**, (kisses you and falls at your feet in supplication) loveyouloveyouloveyou!!!!** seri-chan**, I love your reviews! thanks!** Fallen**, have no worries, hun! This chapter should make you feel quite a bit better. (trust me!) **Goddess**, hopefully, this chap will ease your fears. lol **jenn**, that's the same way I usually feel about long descriptions, so that meant a lot to me! thanks! **aoi-yuki-yume**, I LOVE YOU! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thank you! you've quickly become one of my fav reviewers, and you had some tough competition! lol **resentment**, you might feel worse for her here soon, lol. **TarynMalfoy88**, don't worry, there will probably be more cat-goodness! **little-munchkin-poo**, behold their reactions! **power**** of the stars**, that would be funny, wouldn't it!? we'll see! **beautiful-exterior**, thanks! **babykelyse**, book 5 changed your opinion as well? funny, that…lol **angelfire33**, as usual, thanks a million! **Leeta1**, thank you! **Goddess Of the Fallen**, thank you sooo much! **madcow**, hope you like this one! **xxbabysparklesxx**, thanks, as usual! **Dracoluver2009**, thanks! **Tytianne**, hope this was soon enough! **LizzieKat**, thank you! **short**** arse**, fun? perhaps. lol **RebbeccaTurner01**, thank you so much! **sillysun**, hey, I updated _way_ soon! lol **Chaney**, lol, thanks so much! **tkdchick28**, thank you, and yes, she does have a place. what that is though, I can't say yet! **pitchic05**, THANK YOU! **Evilkitty51**, 'cause she's friends w/Molly, lol. **me**, thank you so much! (kisses!) **Catalina Royce**, behold their 'down time'! **Shadow Psi**, thank you, that means a lot to me!

**Important Author's Note**: Thanks to a lovely reviewer, **pitchic05**, it has come to my attention that when using my beloved little French endearments, 'mon' instead of 'ma' is supposed to be used before a word starting with a vowel. Sooooo…I'll be doing it that way from now on, and I'll eventually go back through the other chapters and fix those. Thanks, **pitchic05**!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Swimming in stars, Virginia surfaced, the warm water sliding off her skin like silk. Brilliant flashes surrounded her, and the falling snow tickled her cheeks and shoulders. Slicing through the dark, dreamy liquid, her feet finally felt the bottom of the pool once more, and she left the water slowly, the steam curling around her body. A silver head surfaced farther out and she smiled, pulling a towel right out of the wall by the misty archway, where there was a good-sized hidden compartment. Drying herself off, she wrapped the thick towel around her and grabbed another, holding it out to Draco as he left the pool as well.

They went back into the bedroom, Draco still dripping wet, and both stopped for a moment to admire their lover. Blaise's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling shallowly, nude but for the silk sheets that rode low at his hips and tangled around his legs. Raven hair was spread over and around him in wavy, teasing tendrils, obscuring half of his face and giving them only tiny glimpses of the smooth, alabaster skin that they knew was hiding underneath that satiny mass. They'd been at the Manor for three days, and both he and Draco seemed to feel secure enough to let themselves sleep an hour or two each day. Now was one of those times.

"Hmm." Draco hummed thoughtfully; his eyes glinting mischievously as he lazily dried his hair with a summoned towel. He could have done so with a spell, but all three thought that it was pretty pointless, and usually opted to let their hair dry mostly on its own.

"What?" She asked, sitting down on one of the chairs beside the bed and calling in another towel for her own hair.

"Well," Draco started with smirk, "I think it's about time we got him back for that childish little prank the other day, don't you?" A devious grin curved across her own lips then.

"And how do you propose we go about such a thing?" She asked innocently, looking up at him through thick lashes. His smirk turned predatory.

"Look at him." Draco crooned. "Just _begging _to be ravished until he can't stand, hmm?"

"Yes." She agreed, her eyes traveling over her lover's sleeping form hungrily. "It took your mother almost twenty minutes to get those knots out of our hair."

"Join me, then?" Draco asked, holding out a hand to her. She opened her mouth to agree, lifted her hand to accept, when a sudden and utterly wicked thought assaulted her brain. Pulling her hand back, she responded to the surprised inquiry within Draco's silvery eyes.

"How about…" She trailed off as images came on the heels of the idea and stole her breath.

"How about _what_, cher un?" Draco questioned, leaning against the bedpost. Snapping back to reality, she looked up at him with eyes turning smoky.

"How about I watch?"

For a second, Draco said nothing, and then he smiled lasciviously. "Alright. You wish for a show, mon âme? Then I shall give you one."

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her passionately before crawling onto the huge bed with grace a panther would kill for. The sheets whispered underneath him, and his towel hung rakishly low on his hips. He slid in between Blaise's legs and ran soft kisses up one silk-covered thigh, his nails following the same path on the other. Blaise shivered but didn't wake, lost deep in dreams, and Draco's grin grew as his lover hardened under his ministrations. A pink tongue darted out, licking a wet trail up the cloth over Blaise's erection and darkening the fabric while ripping a low, throaty moan from his throat.

Blaise's eyes fluttered and he started to say something, but Draco slipped his mouth over the head of his cock, the silk still between their flesh, and any words that might have spilled from between those full lips turned into a strangled scream. His fingers dug into the mattress as his hips bucked, and more of his length disappeared down Draco's throat. Indigo eyes opened wide, clouded with lust, and he mewled when Draco pulled back up, softly scraping teeth over him and dragging the silk along his sensitive skin. Slender, elegant hands pulled the sheet down, slowly revealing inch after inch of perfectly formed porcelain flesh.

Then Draco's frosty lips resumed their task, worshiping every piece of delectable _Blaise_ that was laid out before him, and gaining one whimpering groan after another for his efforts. Silver slid over creamy thighs, leaving wet trails from the still-damp strands as Draco moved and Blaise trembled. Draco slowed his pace, the strokes of mouth and tongue turning languid, and his hands gripped Blaise's hips, holding them down while his icy nails bit into the other's skin, thin trickles of blood welling to the surface and spilling over. Blaise moaned, clutching a fistful of mercury hair as those sharp nails continued downwards, leaving smeared red trails on flawless white flesh.

His length was swallowed to the hilt once more in a sudden, violent move that forced the first true scream from him and caused his pupils to split, his eyes to glow. Wrapping his index finger and thumb around the base of Blaise's shaft, Draco continued his assault mercilessly, until his lover was shaking from head to foot, his own nails having lengthened and ripped through the mattress underneath him. The hand still in Draco's hair tightened, causing Draco to growl around his cock, which would have undone him then had Draco not tightened his grip. Heat pounding through every cell, Virginia wondered why in the fuck she'd never thought to do this before.

Whispered, husky pleas spilled from Blaise's lips, shameless and utterly dissolute, and she knew Draco's control wouldn't hold up much longer against those fervent French entreaties. She was right. After another minute of exquisite torture, Draco drug nails down Blaise's inner thighs at the same time he swallowed him whole, releasing his restraining grip. Blaise screamed, and kept screaming, as Draco poured dark magick into him through his mouth and stretched his orgasm out until it was nearing unbearable. Then, slowly, he released him, smiling when he saw that the glow from Blaise's eyes was almost blinding and his body was trembling uncontrollably.

Purring appreciatively at the sight of complete and total debauched beauty that Blaise presented, and slowly lapping up the small rivers of blood that wound down his lover's milky flesh, Draco wrapped a hand around Blaise's length again, letting another pulse of magick return him to full hardness. A shudder passed through his form, and his hand once again wrapped itself in Draco's damp hair. A tug had familiar skin sliding against familiar skin, and their lips met eagerly. Teeth nicked tongues and both hissed in delight before Draco found their positions reversed. A smirk curved frosty lips before it was kissed into bloody oblivion, and Virginia vaguely heard herself whimper.

Metallic hair fanning out underneath them and dusky, sable locks falling around them like a curtain of shadow, they contrasted and complimented each other beautifully. Their kiss turned ravenous and demanding, their hips grinding together in an age-old carnal rhythm, before Blaise leaned back and whispered a lubricating spell breathlessly. Pale, aristocratic hands wound around Draco's erection, coating it reverently in the warm, slick fluid until it glistened in the starlight. Their eyes locked and overflowing with dark, fierce passion, Blaise lifted up in one smooth movement and slid down onto Draco's cock without any more preamble.

Neither bothered to try and stifle their twin screams, and neither bothered with delicacies, their coupling hard and fast and primal right from the beginning. Nails sliced flesh with sinful abandon, and when Draco's hand encircled his lover's length once more, Blaise threw his head back and moaned wickedly, causing goosebumps to chase over Virginia's skin delectably. Their sleek, muscled forms writhed together, wanton and unrestrained, and it was by far the most erotic thing she had ever seen. She knew they were close when both extended a pale, slender wrist to the other, and keen teeth and lips latched onto the offerings lustfully.

Eyes glazing and epinephrine running amuck within them, Draco's free hand dropped to Blaise's hip, fingers digging into the wounds they'd made and causing them to bleed anew. Rocking and twisting and moaning low in his throat, Blaise met Draco thrust for thrust as their bodies slammed together fiercely and lovingly, their skin practically vibrating from the undiluted ecstasy engulfing their bodies and souls. The pleasure peaked and the Marks flew open, swamping Virginia as the full force of their rapture hit her dead on. All three screamed ferally for what felt like an eternity, their spirits joining into one for a glorious, exalted moment.

Finally, lethargically, they sank back into themselves, purring contentedly, and Virginia found only enough strength to drag herself up onto the bed with them. Both reached out instinctively for her, taking her hands and pulling her towards them, covering her skin in soft, lazy kisses and caresses. Sated and more than a bit euphoric, they stayed that way for a long time, comfortable and silent, simply enjoying each other's presence. In the backs of their minds, they knew that they would be expected downstairs in a little while, but for the moment, nothing existed for them but silky skin and gentle breathing, and that was all that mattered.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione rose early, bathing and dressing quickly, constantly aware of the dog's eyes on her. Pansy had told her its name was Mephite, and that it was a male. She didn't know whether to be grateful for its presence, since it kept the Manor from killing her, or to resent that she needed it at all. Sighing, since she knew it was pointless to dwell on it, she made a few last minute adjustments to her robe and her hair before heading down to the breakfast hall. It's where they'd eaten the last couple of mornings, and she was pretty sure that she wouldn't get lost this time. It was quite embarrassing to ask Mephite for help, and she didn't relish the thought of doing it again.

Fiddling with the sleeve of her velvet robe, she pondered the last few days. After their picnic at the cove, they'd all gone on a short (well, not _short_, but they sure as hell hadn't covered even an iota of the grounds) walk around the gardens and the forest, a group of the large, striped cubs going with them and prowling around happily. The next morning, she'd found the wardrobe in her room full of new clothes, robes, boots, and stockings, and had wondered at first if someone else was taking the room over, and if she would be relocated. Then a house elf had appeared, telling her that the new items were hers, courtesy of the Malfoys. So she had asked Ginny.

"What?" The girl had mumbled, having been a bit distracted with one of the giant cubs that had grown quite attached to her.

"I said that the wardrobe was full of clothes and that the house elf said they were _mine_. I figured that there had to be some sort of mistake." Hermione had told her again, and Ginny had smirked.

"There wasn't any mistake." She'd replied. "It's a common courtesy for guests who don't have…appropriate apparel. They may not like you, but, as they said, they have an image to maintain. Therefore, Narcissa said it wouldn't do to have you running around the Manor in anything less, even if you're not pureblooded."

The girl's voice had been factual and neutral, not in the slightest bit insulting, but Hermione had felt a sting anyway. Of course they had done it for propriety's sake, nothing more. It had been foolish to hope otherwise. So, ever since, she had simply done her best not to get in anyone's way, and to stay as far away as humanly possible from Draco and Blaise. Which was more difficult then she'd thought it would be. It seemed that one or both were around every corner, and there was no way avoid them _that_ day, seeing as the Weasleys would be arriving any moment. Narcissa's announcement had not gone over very well. Not very well at all.

The Slytherins had frozen, looks of horror on their features, Snape had started cursing underneath his breath, Ginny had paled and looked slightly ill, Draco had threatened never to speak to his mother again, and Blaise had simply put his head in his hands, as if life had just hit a new all-time low. It was respected and understood that Silana and Narcissa were friends with Molly, but to have the entire Weasley family over for a whole week, maybe more? To Hermione, it seemed like asking for trouble. Actually, it seemed like asking for homicide. If everyone ended up in one piece and unharmed at the week's end, Hermione would request that it be made a national holiday.

There was, however, very little chance of that. The Weasley men were known to be in-your-face and incredibly stubborn, and Arthur always tried to be a father to everyone younger than him. She didn't even want to _think_ about what would happen the first time he tried to lecture Draco and Blaise. Hopefully they would be able to leash their tempers for Ginny's sake, if nothing else. And what about the girl's brothers? Who knew what they might say or do? Not to mention the other Slytherins. They were just as stubborn, and prideful and arrogant on top of that. Looking at it from every angle, Hermione could only come up with one conclusion. This was going to be bad.

Looking up as she finally reached the breakfast hall, she smiled gratefully when the rich smells of the different foods wafted to her nose. Glancing around, she was slightly surprised to see that no one else was there yet but for Anton, who was pouring something in his goblet of orange juice from a hip flask. Picking up one of the platinum spoons, he swirled it around a few times, mixing the liquids, before taking an experimental sip. Studying him from the doorway, she wondered at the unfairness of it all. Had she been a pureblood, that handsome, elfish face might smile at her like it did for his friends, might laugh with her as if she were important.

Had she been a pureblood, he might take more notice of her then just as something to insult. He might have accepted her like he had accepted Ginny. He might have even liked her, dated her. He might have loved her, might have been able to help her forget…No, she didn't need to think about _that_. She _mustn't_ think about _him_. But Anton might have been able to. He might have been able to wipe away the loneliness and desperation, might have been able to respect and care for her as she desired to be respected and cared for. But she was not a pureblood and never would be. Which meant that he would never look twice at her except in disgust.

"What are you doing lurking, Granger?"

Startled, she snapped out of her musings. "Nothing." She replied, walking into the room, which was lit up brightly with the morning sunlight that was streaming through the clear walls. Sitting across from him at the ebony table, Mephite crouching beside her, she searched for something to say, suddenly not in the least bit hungry. "What did you put in your drink?"

"Excuse me?" He asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. She cursed herself and her stupid mouth, but plunged on.

"Your drink." She clarified. "What did you put in it?"

"Bourbon, if you must know." He said, not even looking at her, but at the goblet in his hand.

"And…that's good?" She asked, determined. If she wanted any of them to even _sort of_ like her, then she was going to have to at least _try_.

"To me. Most don't like it with orange juice." He said distractedly, as if he didn't even really realize that he was talking to her. Wondering what was preoccupying him so badly, but too scared to ask, she kept to the topic at hand.

"Isn't it a bit early?"

"Hah." Anton snorted, still not looking up as he drained his goblet and filled it again. "On _this_ day? No, it's not early at all. I'd bet a hundred galleons that that everyone in the house has a drink or two this morning."

"Maybe it won't be too bad." She said, and he did look up then, his eyes slightly foggy, and she realized that that had definitely not been his first drink.

"Who are you to say that?" He asked, drinking half of his newly made beverage in one gulp. "You can't be looking forward to it. The whole reason you're here is because of that fool you hang out with."

"Yes, well, who else should I hang out with, then?" She snapped, losing her cool a bit. "You?"

"You wish, Granger." He said, his words beginning to slur slightly, black hair falling over one hazel eye.

"You're drunk." She said, hoping to change the subject back to what it had been.

"No, I'm not." He argued. "But hopefully I will be soon."

"Well, that's delightful, dear." Pansy commented, sweeping into the room in a swirl of blue silk. Anton watched her closely as she came to sit next to him, while Hermione watched him. "Pour me one or two of those, if you don't mind."

"Oh, yes, coming right up, master."

"Now, Anton, what did I tell you about being sarcastic?" She questioned primly. "It doesn't become you."

"Doesn't it?"

"Oh, alright. It does. But not when _I'm_ the target." She sniffed. "Don't be mean. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I'm quite irritable enough as is." She said lightly, but Anton's brow wrinkled with worry.

"Are you still…" He trailed off, shooting a meaningful, distrustful look at Hermione. Pansy nodded.

"Yes. Sometimes. But they're not as bad anymore." She said truthfully, and Anton visibly relaxed.

"Thank the gods." He murmured, finishing off his drink and mixing one for Pansy and yet another for himself. Unable to help herself, Hermione had to ask.

"Doesn't that thing ever run out?" She asked, motioning to the small flask.

"When all I poured in it is gone." Anton said dryly. "It's _magic_, you know." He rolled his eyes and Hermione decided to be quiet. Narcissa, Snape and Silana came in, followed shortly by the other Slytherins, and it was another ten or fifteen minutes before Draco, Ginny and Blaise finally came down, looking much more relaxed then everyone else.

"Morning." Ginny said, stretching like a cat as they went to take their seats.

"Morning." Everyone chorused back, grinning at their mussed hair and slightly drugged looks.

"What took you so long, hmm?" Pansy asked with a playful sneer, and Draco threw piece of sliced mango at her head. She barely dodged it, sticking out her tongue after it the floor with a small 'splat'.

"Draco Malfoy." Narcissa said sternly, losing a battle against a smile. "That wasn't very gentlemanly of you."

"Hmph." He scoffed, snapping his fingers. A house elf appeared and bowed low.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Wine. Old. Strong. Now." He commanded, his eyes a bit unfocused. The house elf nodded and vanished, reappearing a moment later with a bottle in hand. It sat it within easy reach on the ebony table and left with another bow. Grabbing it and pouring three goblets, he handed one to each of his lovers and downed his own at once, as did they. They actually looked a bit more steady afterwards. Then Draco started cursing.

"What is it?" Snape asked, and Hermione couldn't help but stare a bit. Snape looked…different. It wasn't anything major, just that his hair wasn't greasy and his skin didn't have the unhealthy pallor that it usually did.

"They're almost here." Draco said, and no one needed to ask who he meant.

Hermione noticed that the emeralds in his signet ring were flashing oddly, and figured that that was how he knew. They all rose reluctantly, but for Narcissa and Silana, both of whom looked pleased that their friend had arrived, yet slightly nervous as well, casting sideways glances at their sons as they all made their way to the entrance hall. Everyone's faces had settled into neutral masks by the time that they'd reached the doors, and a wave of Draco's hand had them opening. They passed under the awning to wait in the snowy grass, and it was less than a minute later when a Dementor walked straight through the wall and Draco went out to meet it.

She didn't know if any actual words were spoken or not, but the Dementor kneeled after a moment and kissed Draco's hand instead of his cheek. Then it was gone, back through the wall, and the gates vanished. One of the Malfoy carriages rolled through, which she knew Narcissa had arranged to bring the Weasleys in, and it pulled around the spherical drive briskly. It came to a smooth stop, and the doors opened at the slightest touch of Blaise's fingers. She'd noticed how the Manor and all that came with it seemed to listen to Blaise almost as much as it did Draco, and wondered if the reverse was true at Blaise's main estate.

"Narcissa!" They heard Molly exclaim before she flew out of the carriage. "Silana!"

"Molly!" Both women said happily, and they all three embraced.

The other Weasleys filed out one by one, Arthur first, then Fred and George, Bill and Charlie, and, finally, Ron. All looked a bit shell-shocked, much as she figured she herself had looked after the stunning ride through the grounds, the fright at the front gate, and then the vision of the Manor itself. Then, to her eternal surprise and Slytherins' scorn, Harry came out after the rest. Blaise looked as if he was about to either commit murder or lay down right in the snow and scream, Draco's lips twisted into a furious, disgusted sneer, Snape looked resigned, and Ginny just looked as if she'd rather be somewhere else entirely.

"_Mother_." Draco hissed, spinning on Narcissa, his eyes flashing dangerously. The woman actually took a step back, but didn't lower her eyes. "You cloaked him from me. That's why you were so adamant on the carriage. Easier to conceal."

"Draco, baby, he was staying with them. They couldn't very well have left him there."

"And that is my problem _how_?" He asked viciously. "Never mind. You want him here bad enough to lie to me? As you wish." He said, his eyes and face utterly blank, and Narcissa flinched.

"Baby…"

"Forget it." He said dismissively, his voice cold, and he turned to Harry. "You make one move against anyone or anything while at my home, and I will turn the entire place against you faster then you can blink. You do not want to know what it is like to truly be hunted." Then he spun, snapping his fingers three times, and a dozen house elves answered immediately.

"Master?" The lead elf inquired, and Draco gave it an icy smile.

"Escort our guest to their rooms. They're Virginia's family, and to be treated with the utmost respect. See to it that they have everything they need, and escort them to the east wing exit in time for brunch. That will be all." He told them, and they nodded and bowed, waiting patiently for the Weasleys. Narcissa was looking at Draco sadly, and she moved away from Snape, taking his arm.

"Come with me for a moment." She suggested, and Draco looked as if he wanted to snatch his arm away, but he stayed still.

"Of course, my lady mother." He said formally and frostily, and her shoulders drooped the minutest bit. They left after excusing themselves, and entered one of the many shadowed, lattice walkways, disappearing from view. Blaise stepped forward and the house elves bowed again.

"Are you ready to be shown your quarters?" He asked politely and aloofly, the host skills that had been ingrained into him from birth rising to the forefront. And he wasn't looking at his mother either, his eyes and expression devoid of anything but a detached, mild curiosity.

"That would be fine, dear." Molly said, looking at him with understanding.

He inclined his head towards her respectfully, even going so far as to give her a faint grin (which Hermione was almost sure was more for Ginny then anything else), before gesturing to the house elves. They moved forward at once, a few going to the carriage to retrieve their luggage while the rest motioned for the Weasleys to follow and moved toward the Manor. The Weasleys looked more than a bit anxious as they passed underneath the imposing doors, their freckles sticking out against their pale skin, and Hermione looked over at Ginny. The other girl no longer bore the freckles that her family was almost as infamous for as they were for their hair, and Hermione sighed.

She felt eyes on her and looked up and into Ron and Harry's stunned faces, and she couldn't help smirking callously at them. They were obviously much more than just surprised to see her there, and dressed in clothes that had obviously cost a fortune, at that. Flipping her straightened hair (which had been done by another marvelous little house elf) over her shoulder haughtily, she decided that they deserved to have it rubbed in their faces. It was Ron's fault that she was there in the first place, damn it, and it's not as if Harry had really stood up for her. He'd just gotten mad at the slight against their non-pure status, she remembered bitterly.

"_Hermione?_" Harry asked incredulously, both of them rooted to the spot, two house elves hovering nearby and waiting for them while the rest of the Weasleys disappeared inside, followed by Snape and Silana, who shot a last, apologetic look at her son. The Slytherins glared at the two Gryffindors, their eyes full of undiluted venom. Ginny moved forward, standing by Hermione's side, and she felt her confidence increase. If she had Ginny's support, then she had the others' support as well, as they would side with Ginny through anything.

"Yes, Harry?" Hermione drawled in her best Slytherin impression, silently congratulating herself when their eyes widened even farther.

"What the hell are you _doing_ here?" Ron questioned harshly.

"Well, you see, I _did _have other plans. But, sadly, they fell through, and I was invited to spend Yule here." She said innocently. "Oh, and it's just been so much fun!"

"Fun?" Ron goggled, and she heard someone snicker quietly behind her before Anton stepped up to her other side, linking his arm with hers familiarly, as if he did it all the time, and it shocked her so badly that she almost lost her façade right then and there. Taking a deep breath after seeing the cruel, playful twinkle in his eyes and realizing that he was going to play along to bait Ron, she turned back to her Housemates.

"Well, of course!" She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't ever want to leave, to tell you the truth." Their mouths dropped and she could feel Anton shaking with laughter before he cut in smoothly.

"It's been quite an…_interesting_ few days." He said slyly, and she felt someone nudge him in the back. A hint of distaste momentarily flashed across his face, but it was gone in an instant and he turned to face her. "Isn't that right, Hermione?" He asked, and before she even had time to get over him calling her by her first name, his lips descended on hers. Her brain seeming to shut down, she kissed him back automatically, vaguely registering Ron's shout and Harry's yelp. Something coiling tightly in her stomach, she couldn't stop a small moan from escaping her as his talented mouth devoured hers, and then…it was over.

"_What the fuck_, Hermione!?" Ron yelled, and she dazedly turned around, Ginny's hand on her waist the only thing that stopped her from literally swooning. She'd been kissed once or twice before, silly, awkward fumblings in the dark, but never like _that_.

"Hmm?" She murmured, thankfully not seeing Anton turn and wrap an arm around Blaise's waist, discreetly wiping his lips off with the silk handkerchief the raven-haired young man handed him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding!" Ron continued to rant, his face as red as his hair, his arms flailing wildly. "How can you kiss that…that…"

"Watch your words, _brother_. Don't say something you'll regret." Ginny snapped, taking another step towards him. He turned a hostile glare on her.

"I mean _everything_ I say." He spat spitefully, meaning to wound. But Ginny didn't react as she had when he'd turned away from her. Oh no, not this time.

"I hope so." She said acidly. "Because some words are unforgivable."

"I'll keep that in mind, _Slytherin_." He replied nastily. Blaise snarled, his warning clear, but Ron foolishly paid him no heed. "Now, if you'll mind your own bloody business, I have some shit to discuss with _her_." He grimaced, nodding towards Hermione.

"You will not harass her here, Ron." Ginny said, her voice steely. "Or I'll show you some of the Slytherin tricks I've learned."

"You'll _try_." Ron said derisively. "I don't think I've ever been more disappointed with anyone in my entire life as I am with you." He continued, oblivious to Blaise's growing fury. "A complete disgrace to our family, a _Slytherin_, and worst of all, you've become their little concubine." He taunted, and between one second and the next, he was flat on his back in the snow, Blaise on top of him with a boot knife at his throat.

"Want to repeat that, Weasel?" He crooned, electricity beginning to flow over his lips and skin. Ron said nothing and Blaise dug the blade in hard enough to draw blood. _I knew something like this was going to happen, _Hermione couldn't help thinking_. But less then ten minutes after they'd arrived? _

"No!" Ron finally choked out, his eyes fogging with instinctual fear. Blaise leaned in, his mouth next to Ron's ear and his words deathly serious.

"Can you not hear yourself when you speak? Ignorance flows from your lips like a sour wine. How many times since we've been with her have you had to ask for her forgiveness? How many times has she granted it? But always, _always_, you're back to much-lacking insults a moment later, hurting one you claim to love again and again. The _only _reason you're not dead is that she still cares for you, no matter how stupid I may think that is. Hell, she might even forgive you this time, although that is, thankfully, doubtful. But she might should you happen to show that little spark of intelligence that you must have buried somewhere very, _very_ deep inside of you. But watch your footing, Weasel, because _I_ will be watching_ you_. And I can dig a grave _no one_ will find."

"_Blaise!_" Silana's voice cut through the thick silence, and Blaise sprung off of Ron, his dagger sliding back into his boot between one blink and the next.

"What?" Blaise questioned furiously, no longer hiding his displeasure with her. She hesitated, then seemed to steel herself.

"You cannot attack the guests." She said, her eyes going to the thin line of blood on Ron's neck. "Oh gods, you didn't!" She said, going to the Gryffindor's side. Blaise's eyes hardened before going completely dead, and when Silana looked back up, her words died in her throat as she saw the look on her son's face.

"Yes, mother of mine, I did." He snapped, his tone as formal and cold as Draco's had been earlier. "And I'll do much worse than that if he ever calls my girlfriend a concubine again."

"She's his sister, Blaise." Silana said evenly, obviously fighting for control of her emotions. "I doubt he would-"

"He did." Ginny interrupted blankly, her eyes as vacant as her boyfriend's. Silana's gaze darkened.

"Be that as it may, that is no excuse to-"

"_Silence_." Blaise hissed, the signet ring on his hand flickering and pulsing, and Silana's mouth snapped shut as she dropped to her knees, her head bowed. Hermione stepped away from him as the air around him became charged and unsteady, and she realized with a start that this was not _Blaise_ she was seeing, but Lord Zabini. It was quite terrifying.

"Forgive me, my lord." Silana intoned, just a hint of genuine fright lacing her voice. "I did not mean to offend-"

"I do not want fake sentiments from you, _Mother_." Blaise cut her off. "Nor do I wish to see you kneel before me, even now. I simply want to know when your friendship with a woman that you two just started socializing with, and that you despised before that, became so important that it eclipsed your loyalty and honesty to your sons."

"It didn't, we only wanted-"

"I know what you wanted."

"No you don't!" She said, lifting her head, tears that Hermione knew she would never let fall, not here, not now, glistening in her blue eyes. "We just wanted you to have a proper Yule for once!" She said, and Blaise stiffened.

"And what," he whispered quietly, _too_ quietly in Hermione's opinion, "is _that _supposed to mean?"

"You know what I speak of." She responded, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Do I?" He questioned softly. "Perhaps. But I never expected deceit of any kind from you two. Shows what I know, hmm?" Hermione really didn't like the edge in his voice, didn't like the layers of hidden meaning. Silana paled.

"No." She said, then more urgently as her son's face stayed completely still, "No. It wasn't like that. You know it wasn't. The little Potter brat coming along was unfortunate, but necessary. Please, Blaise, you know we would never…We're not like _them_!" She exclaimed, just as Draco and Narcissa reappeared out of the gardens. Draco's eyes took in the scene before him, his face intent, and he went to Blaise's side immediately.

"What is it?" Draco asked in a low, soothing voice, but for once, Blaise didn't respond to it, just kept looking at his mother as if seeing her for the first time. Eyes turning frosty and freezing, Draco turned to the last two house elves. "Take the two Gryffindors inside and heal that neck wound. Be discreet; do not let the other Weasleys see you." The house elves complied instantly, laying small hands on Harry and Ron and vanishing with them. "Blaise?" Nothing. "Severus?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"Why does my lover look as if he's seen a ghost? And why is Silana kneeling? What happened here?" He demanded, and Snape fidgeted a bit under his stare.

"They had the same disagreement as you and your mother, but unfortunately, it happened after Blaise was already quite enraged." Snape said, making sure to keep his voice impartial. Draco put two and two together quickly, and turned back to Blaise.

"Venir, mon aimé." He whispered, molding the front of his body against Blaise's as Ginny did the same from behind. "Nous volonté aller apprêter durant brunch, et j'volonté expliquer tout." Blaise let himself be led away, not so much as a glimmer of acknowledgement in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else entirely. The three of them disappeared, Silana rose shakily, and Hermione tried to put her swirling thoughts into some sort of order. ((Come, my beloved. We will go prepare for brunch, and I'll explain everything.))

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hours later, Hermione was fucking wasted. For brunch, they'd all gone about half a mile down a path to the east of the Manor, still inside the wall, and come to a cliff over-looking a beach. But not _just_ a beach, oh no. A beach with a regulation sized Quidditch pitch that had had the Weasley males practically drooling on themselves. Draco had twisted the branch on a low-hanging tree, and a platform had slid out of the cliff face a few yards below them, then lifted like an elevator. They'd gotten on, somewhat nervous until one of the twins had nearly fallen off and it was discovered that there were wards around the platform.

A huge feast had been laid out upon blankets on the sand, cushions were spread everywhere, and there was a rack of towels and swimsuits waiting for their usage. That had surprised them until Narcissa had told them that the water was always warm, almost hot, unless Draco willed it differently. Apparently, even this part of the property answered to him in some way or another. Heat shields had been thrown up for their comfort, and Draco and Blaise had led everyone on a short, to-the-point tour of the Quidditch shed (which was more like a house), telling them that they were welcome to use it and the pitch whenever they wished to during their stay.

Then the Weasleys had seen the brooms.

"What is _that_?" One of the twins had questioned (she could never really tell them apart). He'd been pointing at a row of sleek, black brooms leaning in holders against the walls, and the Slytherins had smirked smugly.

"Those," Draco had informed him, "are the latest model. They don't hit our stores for another two or three weeks."

"Oh gods." Charlie had breathed. "They're _exquisite_. Can I see one? I'll be really careful."

"See one?" Blaise had repeated, and Hermione had just been glad that he was speaking again. Apparently Draco had succeeded in talking to him, as he'd apologized to a tearful Silana and kissed her on the cheek when they'd come back down. She'd refused to accept, saying that he'd been right and that they should have told them. No one had mentioned the earlier incident since.

"Yes." Charlie had answered slowly. "I mean, if it's alright, I'd understand if-"

"No, go ahead." Blaise had said, shrugging. "You can ride them if you want. Otherwise, the Infinities are over there." He'd added, pointing to another row of shining brooms against the opposite wall.

"Really?" Bill had asked, and so had ensued a makeshift Quidditch match.

Not bothering to watch, she'd gone back and sat on one of the many cushions, sinking into it and eating a bit of the finger food laid out, still not having gained her appetite back. Hours had passed in a peaceful lull, before the others had trampled back, their cheeks flushed and their eyes shining. The Slytherins had won (and toned down their playing a bit), but the Weasleys and Harry were so elated to have ridden the new brooms that they didn't comment about it, not even Ron. Although, if he had any sense at all, he wouldn't have anyway. Eating a late mid-afternoon lunch, everyone had then decided to go swimming.

Joining them, they had all grabbed a suit and gone back to the Quidditch shed to change. Thankful for the warming charms, Hermione had been more than a bit shy about going out in nothing but a skimpy bikini, but hadn't really had a choice if she wanted to get in the water. It's not as if she could have gone in with the beautiful velvet robes that they had given her still on. So she'd headed immediately into the waves, sinking down to her neck. Ginny had come out with her boyfriends, and Hermione had felt a twinge of envy. Ginny filled her own stringy green bikini out perfectly, curving and firm in all of the right places.

Draco and Blaise had also been quite a sight to behold, clad in nothing but baggy black shorts and tight, rippling muscles. Averting her gaze until they'd entered the water as well, she'd hung back and relaxed, watching as the Slytherins got into a water fight on one side of her, the Weasleys on the other. It had soon turned into a battle between the two groups, and it had seemed that no matter how far away she moved, she would still get splashed. Giving up, she'd ignored it, and they'd only left the water as the sun had started to sink below the horizon. A huge bonfire had been lit, and that's when the drinking had started.

No one had been spared, not even the adults, as every kind of liquor imaginable was passed around freely. First, it had been brandy, then whiskey, then cognac, then scotch and gin, then Sambuca and rum, then tequila, Sake, Armagnac…Then she'd lost count, the fire roaring and crackling, drunken laughter floating around her, her own melding with it. Ginny screamed, bringing Hermione back to the present, as Blaise tossed her into the air, Draco catching her before all three fell to the sand, snickering and giggling. Crabbe and Goyle were singing a lewd song, mostly empty bottles in their hands as they spun in circles around the flames.

They'd surprised her earlier when they'd come out to swim, as they were solid muscle instead of fat. Their robes apparently concealed quite a bit. Once their hair had been wet and slicked back, instead of shaggy and falling in their faces, she'd also noticed that they'd both become quite handsome, their cheeks slimmer then she remembered. But then she hadn't really looked at either of them in years. They were just sort of…there. But she'd definitely noticed them then. Pansy, Melody and Daphne sat at their feet, smiling and clapping, while Narcissa, Silana, Molly, Arthur and Snape were also quite sloshed, telling old stories and laughing uproariously every so often.

Bill, Charlie and Ron were alternately watching their sister and their parents, while having a heated debate over, shocker of shockers, Quidditch, with Harry, who had passed the heavily intoxicated point well over an hour ago. Fred and George had been mingling with everyone, going from place to place as the groups had shifted and changed, and she watched idly and blurrily as they sat down beside their sister and her lovers. They had soon struck up a conversation which she couldn't hear, but she could see them laughing when Draco and Blaise polished off their fifth or sixth bottle of alcohol, which should have been impossible, but wasn't.

At least not for _them_, anyway. She'd only had…Well, she didn't really have any idea. _Too much_, she thought distantly, not particularly caring. Then something caught her attention. Anton was sitting by himself as she was, watching the Slytherin girls as he opened another bottle of what looked like Black Death vodka and took several deep swigs before lowering it. After another moment of looking at them, he stood abruptly and started down the beach. He passed by, unnoticed by most, until Draco's hand shot out and caught his ankle as he made to scoot around them. Quiet words were exchanged and Draco's hand dropped.

An unreadable expression clouded Draco's eyes as he watched Anton walk away, and she almost thought it was something resembling pity, but that was ludicrous. It still worried her, though, and watching Draco definitely wasn't going to help anything, so she rose unsteadily to her feet. Leaning against the cliff face, she made her way after him, and no one noticed her departure, that or they didn't care. Being extremely careful not to spill any of her wine, she stumbled down a small hill before she caught sight of Anton's form again. She could see him swaying and listing even from where she was, and sped up as much as was possible without falling and busting her arse.

She finally found him in another cove, smaller then the one they'd had a picnic in a couple of days before, laying on the sand with the cloak he'd worn down to the beach spread out underneath him. Wondering if the heating spells went this far out or if it was just the liquor in her blood keeping her warm, she must have made some small noise, for his head snapped around. His eyes were completely glassy and unfocused, and it seemed to take him a few moments before he recognized her. He didn't say anything, and the alcohol making her bold, she walked over to him, sitting with him on the rich fabric and cocking her head to the side.

"Why'd you leave?" She asked, her words sounding funny even to her, and he rose up on one elbow wobbly.

"Why'd you follow?" He shot back, his words slurring much worse than hers, and she tried to think about how much he must have had to drink, but she couldn't concentrate very well, and she kept remembering the kiss he'd given her earlier.

"You shouldn't be alone." She said lamely, and even in the state he was in, he managed to look unbelieving of her excuse.

"No, really, Granger. What do you want?" He asked, draining another good portion of his bottle.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" _Stall, Hermione, stall_, she thought desperately, but her brain wasn't working right.

"Just answer the question." He said sharply, and she sighed, figuring what the hell. He probably wouldn't remember tomorrow anyway.

"I like you." She said, and instead of laughing, he went eerily and utterly silent. "A lot. I have since…I guess for a long time." She finished, and he did speak then.

"Liar."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are." He said simply, dully. "You're obsessed with Dray, everyone can see that." She froze, not wanting to even _think_ about that, but not wanting to lie to him either.

"Draco is with Ginny. He'd never even consider it."

"And what makes you think that I would?" Anton questioned harshly. She flinched, her sluggish brain realizing that this probably hadn't been the best idea, but she plowed ahead anyway.

"You kissed me earlier."

"Because Blaise thought it would be amusing." He stated, and her heart sunk to her feet. "As did I."

"Oh, that's really nice, you know." She said sarcastically, taking another long drink of her wine.

"Maybe. But it's the truth." He said unfeelingly. "It _was _funny."

"I'm surprised you could even stomach it, then." She snapped. "Me being what I am, and all."

"What? A mudblood?" He snorted. "Fucked plenty of them before." She reeled as if she'd been hit.

"_What_? But I thought we disgusted you."

"You do." He said in the same bland tone. "But there's nothing wrong shagging one of you once or twice as long as you don't reproduce."

"That's…that's…" She wanted to say that it was disgusting and degrading, wanted to tell him that he was a complete arse, but something stilled her tongue. The memory of his snaking into her mouth.

"It's what?" He asked, finishing off his bottle and tossing it carelessly on the sand. But what popped out of her mouth was not what she had intended. Or maybe it was.

"You'd shag me?"

Silence. Then, "_What!?_"

"Would you shag me?" She asked again, the small bit of what sentience she had left asking what the fuck she was doing. But she didn't even really know. She was listening to her body over her mind for once, and she didn't even _want _to stop.

"Are you asking if I will, as in now, or if I would, as in ever?" He asked with narrowed eyes, and she took a deep breath, plunging headfirst into something that she knew she would most assuredly regret.

"If you will, as in now." She blurted, and those stunning hazel eyes widened.

"You're fucking crazy, Granger, do you know that?"

"Right now? Yes." She answered, downing the rest of her own bottle and tossing it next to his. Growing ever bolder, she started unbuttoning her robe, which she'd put back on when they'd left the water. He was still in nothing but loose, low-hanging green shorts, the moonlight playing over his sculpted abs and making her breath catch in her throat.

"What are you _doing_?" He hissed, and she kept opening her robe inch by inch.

"You said that my kind was good enough to fuck. So fuck me." At any other time, she would have been mortified at the words spilling from her lips, but alcohol apparently really _was_ an inhibition destroyer. Her robe slid from her shoulders, leaving her in only the aqua bathing suit that she still had on, and his eyes darkened.

"You wanna be fucked, Granger? Fine." He growled, and he was on her in an instant, pushing her back down onto his cloak.

His lips crashed into hers, the sweet taste of the vodka he'd been drinking clinging to his mouth, and she kissed him back eagerly. His fingers felt as if they were burning into her skin as they traveled over her exposed form, and her suit was off and being thrown to the side before she even knew it was gone. Moaning as his fingers closed on her nipples, she vaguely wondered why she'd held off on doing this for so long. But then again, most of the boys that she knew didn't have the first clue about what they were doing. Anton, undoubtedly, did. Running her hands down his back, she arched into him as his lips moved to her neck, sucking and nibbling.

Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, pulling him closer to her as their mouths met again, tongues dueling hungrily. Passion and lust engulfed her, and she realized that she'd only _thought_ she'd experienced them before. It had never been remotely like _this_. This aching, wanting, needy desire to be filled, to be fucked into a stupor of nirvana. He ground his hips against her, her throaty groans ringing through the cove unhindered as his mouth and hands explored every inch of her. A fingertip ran over her clit and she screamed, his lips quickly moving back to hers to stifle it as the finger began moving faster, and she finally broke.

"Please…" She whimpered, bucking her hips against him and trying to get more of that glorious friction. "Just be careful at first. I've never done this before." Slightly amazed that'd she'd even been able to form a sentence, she didn't notice him freeze at first.

"Fuck. You're a virgin?" He asked, starting to pull away. She clamped her arms around his neck, her legs twining tighter, and stopped him.

"It doesn't matter. Please." She begged again, her body practically demanding release.

"This means nothing, you do know that?" He asked bluntly, but at that point, she really didn't give a fuck.

"Yes. You'll still despise me tomorrow. Now, come on." She said, pulling at his shorts as her liquor-dazed brain's protests finally spluttered and died out in favor of getting his pants off, preferably as quickly as possible.

"As long as you're not expecting more." He said, and was decidedly gentler after that, though no less intent. He cast a contraceptive charm, and she was glad one of them had remembered.

Then he seemed to be everywhere, dragging moan after moan from her before he slid the first finger inside of her. She was so wet at that point that it didn't hurt at all, just made her want more. When another slid inside her, there was a moment of pain, but it quickly faded as his thumb worked her clit, his fingers moving in and out of her deliciously. A minute later, she was screaming as she came, his mouth covering hers once again while her body shook from its first real orgasm. Slightly stupefied by the intensity of it, and still quite horny, she felt only a sharp, agonizing stab as he pushed into her in one smooth, controlled thrust.

Biting back a scream of a different sort, tears springing to her eyes, she tried to relax. Then his hands smoothed down her sides as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear and slowly began to move. He was obviously experienced with taking a virgin, as well. She was sure it should have hurt more, but the pain disappeared almost immediately, and soon she was grinding into him, feeling better then she ever had in her life as his pace picked up, his length pounding into her. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, shifting his hips, and she was sure that she was going to die from sheer bliss as she moved to meet his thrusts.

Her vision started going hazy around the edges, and choked cries poured from her in an unbroken chain as the ecstasy increased beyond what she'd thought possible. His mouth descended on one nipple, his fingers on the other, while his other hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit again with knowledgeable ease. That undid her, and even his mouth couldn't fully muffle her shrieks as her world exploded and crashed back down, dragging her along for the ride. He tensed above her, his biceps flexing and his stomach clenching as she tightened around him, and he hoarsely whispered a name as he came, jarring her back into lucidity.

"Pansy."

Then he collapsed next to her bonelessly, not even realizing what he'd said, and she wondered why she wasn't more upset. Figuring that she would be when she woke up, as the liquor had already proved that it was causing her to behave completely out of character, she snuggled up next to him, pulling her open robe over them both like a blanket. Her chest started to hurt the more she thought about what he'd murmured, her eyes stinging, and she resolutely pushed the memory away. Exhausted, her body still extremely giddy and satiated, she let her eyes fall shut. Her last thought before unconsciousness was if Draco knew about Anton's true desire, if that was why he'd given him the look that he had as the other young man had left earlier.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Waking with a jolt, Virginia wondered how long she'd been out. Looking at the moon, she determined that it hadn't been that long, an hour or two at max. Her boyfriends were still talking to the twins, but all four looked over when she bolted upright off of Blaise's lap. She'd had that dream again, the dream that had been haunting all three of them every time they closed their eyes. Hair like rosewood, skin like bronze. Dark, green-speckled eyes that held such _peace_ within their fathomless depths. Something tickled at her memory as it always did after one of those dreams, and she felt like pulling her hair and screaming in frustration.

"Ginny?" Fred asked. "Are you okay?" He was trying his damnedest to focus on her, but it wasn't working very well. They'd all had waaaay too much to drink. But at least no one had been killed.

"Fine, fine." She slurred, still not sober in the least. "Just a strange dream, is all."

"Alright." He said, a second before he hit the sand with a thud and started to snore.

Staring for a moment, she took Blaise's bottle out of his hand, letting swallow after swallow of the fiery liquid run down her throat. George had gone silent, staring at a shoe (whose shoe, she had no idea), while her boyfriends were all wobbly, looking at her with as much concern as they could muster. Considering the slight rocking from side to side, the crystalline quality of their eyes, and the open, amused smiles on their faces, they were just as shit-faced drunk as she was. Which was actually quite comforting in a way. Looking around, she saw most everyone else either asleep, or talking in low, quiet voices that were almost drowned out by the sound of the waves.

Except for two.

"Where are Anton and Hermione?"

"Hmm?" Draco murmured, having been distracted by a lock of her hair that he was twisting around his fingers.

"Anton, Hermione. Where are they?" She asked again, trying to get her thoughts into some sort of comprehensible order. It was a lot harder then it sounded. _Maybe the rest of Draco's bottle would help_, she thought absently, before her boyfriend's voice made her recall why she'd been trying in the first place.

"Anton went…" Blaise paused, seemed to have to think quite hard about it, then pointed. "That way. Maybe."

"When?"

"No idea, really." Draco supplied. "It's safe, though, so what's it matter?"

"He shouldn't sleep out there alone." She said, and they nodded reluctantly, which made her giggle, because when they moved, there were two of each of them. "And what about 'Mione?"

"Who fucking cares?" Blaise asked. "Because I'm _more_ than positive that I don't. Maybe she'll fall off one of the cliffs." He didn't sound as if he was in the least bit joking, and the reality that that could very well happen hit her suddenly.

"Damn it!" She cursed, trying to stand.

"What are you doing, cher un?" Draco questioned, trying to help her but nearly falling over himself.

"Going to find her."

"What?" He asked, his voice laced with the distaste he felt for the idea. "Why?"

"Because what if she _does_ fall off a cliff?" Silence. "_Exactly_. Gods know, everyone'll say we pushed her or some shit. And Mephite didn't come with us since she was supposed to stay with one of us all night. She can't be out in the grounds alone, something will get her."

"Fine." Draco sighed. "I really fucking hate her, you know. And I really fucking hate that she's even here. Have I reminded you today that you owe me for eternity for this?"

"Yes, Dray." She said as the three of them finally managed to get to their feet. "On the hour, every hour."

"Good." He replied, trying to steady her as she almost fell back down. "And I've decided that Blaise owes me too."

"Me?" Blaise asked incredulously, blinking a few times and nearly stepping on George, who was still very involved with his inspection of the mysterious shoe.

"Yes. You let her bring her. So it's your fault too."

"_Let her_? You _know_ how she is!" Blaise said indignantly, waving at Virginia. Draco snickered.

"You're so whipped."

"_I'm_ whipped? I'm not the one who gave into mummy and let Harry bloody Potter stay over!"

"You're going to pay for that." Draco growled, and Blaise sneered.

"Like I did earlier? Pity."

"Umm, hello?" She cut in, wondering if the beach was really moving or if it was just in her head. "Search mission, remember?"

"Search mission?" They heard Pansy call out from their left. "Search mission for who?"

"Anton." Blaise said resolutely, since he obviously still didn't give a fuck if they found Hermione Kissed and soulless.

"Anton?" Pansy said, looking around blearily. "I thought he was with you."

"Nope. We'll be back."

"I'm coming with you." The girl said, and Melody, Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle echoed her. They rose in a clumsy, staggering pile, which drew some of the Weasleys attention, and finally roused George from his stupor.

"Where are you going?" George asked, and Virginia told him they were going looking for the two who were missing.

"Hermione?" Ron said, but Virginia ignored him. "Well, I'm coming too, then."

Still ignoring him, they set off down the beach in the direction her lovers had seen Anton go. Besides the three of them and the other Slytherins, Ron, Harry, Charlie and George came with them while the others slept on undisturbed. Draco and Blaise continued to bicker playfully from either side of her, and they'd finally made it about forty yards (gods only knew how), when they found their first clue. Hermione's hair tie, which she'd borrowed from Virginia after they'd gone swimming. After another few stumbling yards, filled with many slurred complaints and off-the-wall comments, Draco stopped, looking around them thoughtfully.

"I think I know where we might find Anton." He said, and Blaise glanced around as well, before something flickered in his glazed eyes and he nodded.

"Yeah, that little cove." He said, and they started out again, her boyfriends leading the way. They did come to a small cove a little while later, and her lovers motioned everyone back, while the three of them crept up as best they could in their conditions. They could have seen fine had it been pitch black, but the moonlight lit everything up more than enough even for normal human eyes. What they found shocked the shit out of all three.

"Oh gods! _Hermione!?_ And…and…_Anton!?_" Virginia hissed in a startled whisper, not realizing how well her voice carried against the stone walls.

"_What?_" Several people behind them demanded at once, and charged forward.

Crabbe and Goyle made it first, their mouths dropping before they snapped shut and started smirking in a way that only males can when finding their friend in such a situation. Charlie and George were next, and their stunned disbelief was almost palpable. Then came Ron and Harry, Pansy and Melody. Harry's eyes almost bugged out of his head, Ron turned green and red at the same time somehow, which was an accomplishment even for him, but Melody and Daphne…Melody and Daphne looked at Pansy anxiously, wringing their hands together in a most un-Slytherin-like way. Virginia felt like doing much the same. She was the girl's best friend, after all. She knew her secret.

"_HERMIONE!!!!"_ Ron bellowed, his voice echoing wildly and causing them all of them to jump. Anton shot up from a pallet that appeared to be made up of a velvet robe and cloak, his wand in hand, before he saw Draco, Blaise and Virginia. Falling back with a groan and clutching his head, he let his wand fall to the floor. Virginia glanced at her boyfriends, and saw that they looked torn, half-seriously amused and half-nauseous as they looked at who their friend was with.

"What?" Anton asked groggily, while Hermione was still out cold.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Ron shouted, drawing Anton's attention to the others in the room. Virginia felt her boyfriends stiffen when they saw Anton catch sight of Pansy's stricken face, and started to wonder…But no, he couldn't…Could he?

"I didn't do shit to her that she didn't fucking beg me for." Anton snarled. His wand was back in his hand in an instant, and he threw half of the cloak over Hermione as he rose, wrapping the robe around his waist like a towel. His eyes were still as misty as everyone else's, but he got to his feet a bit quicker then any of them had managed to do. Probably had something to do with the wide difference in circumstances.

"You're lying! You-"

"He isn't." Virginia cut in, watching her friend closely. Funny how being shocked nearly to death had made her head clearer.

"Why does it even matter?" Anton snapped, glaring. "None of you have ever given a shit about any of my other meaningless little one night stands."

"This is _Hermione_!" Ron yelled. "Not one of your bloody sex toys!"

"Are you so sure of that?" Anton asked silkily, his words only slightly off. "It's all a goddamned mudblood is good for anyway. Get the fuck away from me." He said malevolently when Ron moved forward. But he didn't do anything when Pansy did, seeming to snap out of her horrified trance.

"You fucked her?" She hissed, her eyes shining with an odd, eerie light. "You fucked _her_? If you wanted to take a dip in the plebian pool, you could have chosen someone, _anyone_, else." His own temper rising, the alcohol still in his bloodstream fueling it, he bit back.

"What the fuck do you care, Pansy? You're gonna get mad at me for something that you've done countless times? You're gonna get mad just because you happen to dislike this one a bit more than most of the others of her kind? What was it you always told me? '_Fuck_ _freely but love purely_'?"

"So, what, you're gonna get with her?" Pansy questioned, her nose scrunching in disgust while something else entirely was silently screaming from inside her brandy-colored eyes. Anton sneered, his own eyes speaking volumes to those who knew him well.

"Haven't you been listening at _all_?" He stressed in a low whisper, as if being as quiet as possible was the only way to stop himself from losing it completely and screaming. "Why in the fuck would I get with her? I respect my heritage just as much as you do, and I'd rather cut my own fucking legs off in the first place. And how could I…" He paused, as if debating on whether to say more, and Virginia was distantly aware of her boyfriends throwing aural shields up as if they knew what was about to happen and had no intention, even while drunk, of letting the Gryffindors hear it.

"How could you _what_?" Pansy demanded, and Anton stalked forward, listing only the tiniest bit.

"I-" He started, but then Hermione stirred. Pansy's eyes flew to her, filling with rage, and Virginia swore that she heard her boyfriends cackle delightedly, dropping the shields, when Pansy sprung without another word, driven by instinct, slamming into the other girl and pinning her to the ground.

"P-Pan-"

"_Shut up!_" One of Pansy's hands was around the girl's throat, the other holding her arms above her head. "I could kill you, you know. No one would blame me, or even know. I'd walk free, and you'd rot in a hole somewhere, finally leaving us all the fuck alone. But I won't. Because what do you think it's going to be like now? Look around, little mudblood, because too many eyes have seen this. Too many have seen the Head Girl whore for one of our own. Too many now know that the lion let itself be broken by the snake. Do you know what they call people like you? What they _will_ call you? Slytherin's slut. The other Houses aren't as open with casual sex as we are, and you just broke a whole slew of their cardinal rules. Have fun bearing the weight of your new title, bitch."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

(laughs evilly) Review! I made this chapter extra long for you guys, just 'cause I love ya! Not to mention it's out waaaay early. So, if you love me at all, please review!


	19. Seine Surprises

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to my cherished reviewers: tkmoore**, (lets you borrow my F&G dolls just because I worship the ground that you walk on! kisses!)** cloaked**, love, you never fail me with your reviews! **Jan**, what can I say? you're simply _fabulous_! (bows and gives you big kisses)** seri-chan**, thanks so much, as usual!** angelfire33**, (kisses) excellent review as always!** Catalina Royce**, omg! awesome review! you kick ass!** sillysun**, I just lurve you! THANKS!**Shelby**, she was invited 'cause Ginny's still her friend and she added interesting tension. lol** xxbabysparklesxx**, I'm glad you thought it was funny! and thanks! **jenn**, neither would i! **Chaney**, doesn't alcohol just kick ass? lol **Fallen**, thanks! love you! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, as usual, I adore you! **ForeverLoyal**, well, it seems we have a bit in common. :) **aoi-yuki-yume**, he'll say it eventually, lol! **Crimson**, hey, there's no dissing of your honey in here! lol **Frances**, thanks!** Ludra**, I'm glad you liked it! **candace1989**, THANK YOU! **juju**, probably not. lol **Lithui**, omg, that was a beautiful review! thank you so much! **beautiful-exterior**, thanks, as usual! **Serena**, please, no murder! no murder! I posted! (runs screaming) lol **babykelyse**, it was _so_ offered freely! (snickers) **Aubryawna**, yes! another ruined! love you! **Evilkitty51**, hope this was soon enough! **Onsetlife**, thank you! **madcow**, it just comes to me, lol. **Voldemort8**, hope this cleared things up a bit! **a.sam**, THANK YOU! **childofoceans**, you rock mine too! :) **RebbeccaTurner01**, thank you so much! **Psi**, well, we can always hope she doesn't! lol **moonspirit11**, thank you! you rock!

**Important Author's Note**: Thanks to a lovely reviewer, pitchic05, it has come to my attention that when using my beloved little French endearments, 'mon' instead of 'ma' is supposed to be used before a word starting with a vowel. Sooooo…I'll be doing it that way from now on, and I'll eventually go back through the other chapters and fix those. Thanks, pitchic05!

**Semi-Important Author's Note**: One, I don't know about the live birth thing (don't freak, you'll see in a minute), and two, Peter Pettigrew's House was never directly mentioned canon-wise as far as I know, and if it was, I totally missed it. I know most assume he was a Gryff, but let's pretend otherwise, alright?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Blaise and Draco stood silently on the cliff outside of their bedroom, watching the moonlight play over the waves, and every once in a while glimpsing one of the mer-horses that lived inside the wards. The night was anything but silent, the forest alive and the wind howling. Ebony and silver whipped around them, but neither moved to pull their hair back. The stars were too enchanting, and too much rested within their minds, to have them worry over something so inconsequential. Their heart lay just inside, sleeping for a few hours, wrapped in thick furs and silk. But they could not find even a moment's repose in sleep, for she was the main thing they worried about.

"Too close." Draco whispered for what felt like the thousandth time, and Blaise didn't have to ask what he meant.

"Yes."

"It cannot happen again."

"I know. A repeat is unacceptable." Blaise replied, their fingers twining together.

"We cannot survive without her, you know this?"

"Oui. I feel it, that subtle shift in my core. It's been that way since we were Marked. And at this point, I would not even wish to."

"Nor would I." Draco agreed, sighing. "If I lost either of you…"

"You won't." Blaise said with conviction, turning and facing his lover. "We won't let that happen."

"Then you know what must be done?"

"I do. We cannot have him constantly breathing over our shoulders, hunting for weaknesses. He will find one eventually. Even we are not infallible."

"Obviously." Draco hissed, his mercury eyes flashing. "But neither are we weak. A Lord of the Dark he may be, but there is still only one of him."

"You fancy us ready to face him?" Blaise asked, his eyes letting his lover see that he felt much the same.

"Perhaps. Dark Lords are not ones to be trifled with, but for some reason, I'm beginning to think that he hasn't gained all of his strength back like he's telling everyone he has."

"True." Blaise spoke slowly, turning his thoughts over. "That has occurred to me as well. But then again, we aren't what we will be in another year or two, either."

"It still must be done." Draco stated.

"And soon, at that. We must keep her safe no matter the cost."

"Then we agree?"

"Don't we always?" Blaise questioned flippantly, and glared when Draco pinched him. "Oui, we agree."

"Good. Then we shall be knocking upon the Dark Lord's door before Yule break ends."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia sat on a low stone bench in one of the west gardens, her head on George's shoulder and her legs curled up in Fred's lap. George was absently coiling the braids that her boyfriends had plaited into her hair earlier that morning around one finger, while Fred was leaned back with his eyes closed, his head resting on the giant tree behind them. To their left, Pansy, Melody and Daphne were chatting quietly, and to their right, Gregory, Vincent and Anton were silent and half-dozing in one of the small patches of late morning sunlight that had managed to make it through the trees' thick canopy. Draco and Blaise were nowhere to be seen, but given the reason that they were there, it was expected.

'There' was actually at the foot of the mountain that was on the property, and said mountain had turned out to be their infamous dragon reserve. Charlie had nearly died from sheer glee. Twenty dragons nested on the mountain, two of each of the remaining species, and they had come out because the Peruvian Vipertooth female, the only dragon that didn't lay eggs, had gone into labor. So while Draco, Blaise and Charlie had gone in to help the house elves, the rest of them had taken up vigil at the foot of the great mountain. All were excited, as they'd been promised a chance to see the baby from a safe distance after it was born.

The garden they were in was like a spot of spring, or would have been had they not been able to see the snow falling all around the shield surrounding them. Her parents were once again sitting with Narcissa, Severus and Silana, this time around a marble table that was inside a gazebo not too far from where she was. Ron and Harry were sitting a little bit away from them, Ron glaring steadily at Hermione, who was sitting by herself reading a book, and Harry was looking at the girl too, but in a confused way rather than a murderous one. Bill was laid out on the soft grass, his head pillowed in his hands, drifting in and out of sleep lazily.

"I still can't believe she fucked him." Fred mumbled quietly, looking towards Hermione. George smiled.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to see them all post-coital." He whispered back, and Fred snickered.

"Thank the gods. I'm not sure I ever would have recovered."

"Shut up." Virginia said, her tone just as subdued, but she couldn't stop a small grin. It was nice to be with the twins again. "There's nothing wrong with Anton."

"We didn't say there was." George replied, his chin-length red hair sliding from behind his ears as he shook his head and falling around his lightly freckled face. "Rather like him, actually. He's an okay bloke. It's Hermione that warped my poor brain."

"What?" She asked, surprised. "Why?"

"Well, it's…_Hermione_." Fred attempted to clarify. "I'd never even thought she'd _have_ sex, let alone throw all of her scruples out of the window for a quick tumble with a Slytherin." He said something else, but Virginia wasn't listening.

He didn't realize how much what he'd just said meant to her. Well, more like _how_ he'd said what he said. There hadn't been a drop of reproach or disdain in his voice when he'd said 'Slytherin'. In fact, there hadn't been in either his or his twin's ever since that night at the bonfire. And considering that most usually said that word as if it were a curse, she appreciated it more than she could say. They'd come up that first night, sat down, and had simply asked, '_Are you happy_?' She'd said yes and they'd nodded, threatened her boyfriends with nasty retribution should they ever hurt her, and then traded lewd jokes and stories with them the rest of the night.

"Ginny? Umm, Ginny, hello!" Startled, she snapped out of her thoughts to find her brothers looking at her with amusement. "Back with us, now?" Fred asked, and she nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah, sorry, I just…"

"Just _what_, little sister?" George asked playfully after she trailed off, tickling her with her own braid.

"I just…What I mean is…Thank you."

"For what?" Fred asked, and they both looked genuinely confused. "I mean, don't get me wrong, if you wanna give us credit for something…"

"…It's fine as long as it was devious and preferably funny." George finished for him, and she slapped them both lightly on the arm, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious." She said, and they sobered immediately. She'd forgotten how it felt to have the twins turn their full attention on her. Everyone else had always found it odd and sort of intimidating, but she'd just found it comforting. The same apparently still held true.

"What is it, rose?" They asked in unison, and she glared.

"Don't call me that!" She huffed, bristling at the use of their childhood nickname for her.

They'd started calling her that when they were all still little and the twins had followed Virginia deep into the woods around the Burrow one day. They'd seen her testing out a story their mum had told them, and had followed her again the next day, to find the legend true. The blood she had spilt on the earth had been replaced with wild roses, and they had called her 'rose' ever since. Although, they hadn't in a good two or three years, which she'd been quite happy about. And it wasn't the word itself that irked her; it was the way that the bastards _said_ it. It was the underlying tone to their voices, indiscernible to most, that taunted her.

The tone that said '_No_ _matter who holds your heart and secrets now, we hold those of your_ _youth_'. And they did. Everyone usually thought that she had been the closest with Ron, due to their ages. But that hadn't been true at all. As children, Virginia had always run to the twins with nightmares or when she got in trouble, and she still had at Hogwarts until they'd left. To tell the truth, they were the only members of her family that she actually wanted to approve of her choices. And after the initial shock, they had, just as they had in the past. The sense of family that she'd felt leave her when Ron had turned from her came back a bit, and she didn't know whether to fight it or not.

Her head told her not to trust them completely, told her not to trust _anyone_ but her boyfriends and her god completely, but their open, understanding eyes made it hard. Because her heart told her that out of everyone else, even her parents, these two would never betray her, never abandon her. Her head, of course, argued, telling her not to be foolish, that everyone could change. But if that held true for them, then why did her heart not rebel concerning anyone else? It fought her judgment and logic brutally, telling her that this once, she had to have faith. But could she? Percy's eyes still haunted her, Ron's rejection still stung. And the rest of her family…

They were trying, she supposed. Bill made some effort to try and talk to her boyfriends, usually about different sorts of curses. Charlie, well, he had the passion for dragons in common with them. But both still had an untrusting, guarded expression in their eyes, and neither approved. Her father _definitely_ didn't approve, his tense posture whenever her lovers were around was testament enough to that, but he had been civil. Overly civil, actually. It was like he thought that they couldn't see straight through his fake smile and strained laughter. And her mum…Her mum liked Narcissa and Silana well enough, but as for Blaise and Draco…

She knew her mother didn't like them, didn't trust them, but she treated them warmly all the same. Except…sometimes Virginia would see her mum's eyes darken when she didn't think anyone else was watching. But the question regarding the twins remained the same. Could she put faith in someone besides her lovers again? In someone besides Pansy and Anton? Looking up, seeing the true affection and brotherly adoration in their eyes, she let her heart tell her mind to fuck itself, and realized that she'd never really lost her faith in _them_. It had just been buried beneath the deceit that had seemed to swamp her from every direction.

"Rose, you're spacing out again." George chided gently, and she smiled.

"Sorry."

"So, what were you thanking us for again?" Fred asked, thumping the tip of her nose.

"For…I guess just for being there for me the last few days. For treating Draco and Blaise like people instead of some sort of contagious monsters. For being decent and friendly towards the other Slytherins. Just for…for being you, I suppose." She said, and they grinned.

"Hey, it's not a big deal, rose." Fred told her simply. "You're our little sister…"

"…But you're not a little girl anymore." George finished, his sky blue eyes sparkling. "We'll still love you, Gin, no matter what you do." Lowering her eyes to the floor, she told herself that she was _not_ going to cry. The twins rarely said anything meaningful or sentimental, but when they did, they did a damn fine job of it. Familiar freckled fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet their gaze, and their eyes widened slightly at the battered, wounded look in her own.

"Rose…"

"…Gods, did Percy hurt you that badly?"

She said nothing.

"No." Fred answered for her, looking at her as intently as their brother was. "It's something else, too."

"What's happened, rose?" George asked, and she tried to look away, but they wouldn't let her. They never had. Willing herself not to glance at Ron, she tried to lie, even though she knew it wouldn't fool them.

"Nothing." She said weakly, feeling like a little girl again. The effect they could have on her was absurd.

"Come on, rose, we're not stupid…"

"…Despite what people think." Fred finished.

"Someone else in the family has hurt you." George said, cocking his head to the side, a calculating look entering those eyes. A calculating, slightly frightening look.

"Who was it?" Fred demanded softly. "Bill or Charlie?"

"No."

"Mum and dad?" George asked.

"No."

"Ron." They both hissed, his name more of a statement then a question.

She said nothing.

"I'm going to kill him." George mumbled, his eyes narrowing to slits. Fred nodded, and when they turned to look at their youngest brother, their eyes were full of wrath and retribution.

"What'd he say to you, rose?" Fred questioned, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it, alright? It doesn't matter."

"Oh, but Ginny, it does." George said acidly. "It matters quite a lot." He started to stand and she pulled him back down.

"What are you _doing_?"

"What's it look like?" He asked. "I'm gonna go knock some sense into brother dear."

"Just leave it. Please." She said, and they both froze.

"Fine." Fred said, smiling nastily when Ron looked up and started at the looks they were giving him. Their brother paled, before looking at Virginia and scowling. He made some obviously rude comment to Harry under his breath, and the twins snapped.

"Never mind." George said as he and Fred squirmed out of her grasp. Not wanting to hurt them, and therefore not using her strength, she cursed as they stood. "Sorry, rose, but some things just have to be done."

"Oi, Ron!" Fred called, and Ron's head snapped back around, as did most everyone else's. "What's your fucking problem with our sister?" The garden grew quiet at that, and Ron stood, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Why? What's she been blabbing about me?" Ron spat, and the twins moved forward threateningly. Bill had risen to his elbows, watching his brothers cautiously, obviously preparing to break up a fight.

"She hasn't said anything." George said in a low voice, trying to leash in his anger. "But you're about to."

"Am I?"

"Yes." Fred supplied, taking another step. "You're going to tell us what you did to make our baby sister's eyes hold such sorrow." Realizing how rarely serious the twins were being, Bill got to his feet, his nervousness increasing threefold.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ron said, but he was playing with the ragged end of one sleeve of his robe, and they knew he was lying.

"Don't fuck around." George warned. "_What_ _did you say?_"

"I don't know what you're-" Ron started to repeat, but Hermione cut him off.

"I do."

Everyone stopped and looked at her. But she was looking only at Ron, her eyes shining with revenge. He had treated her like utter shit the last two days, and it seemed like she was ready to bite back. The only people that even so much as acknowledged her presence anymore without insulting her were Virginia, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and their parents. But the middle four rarely spoke to her anyway, so it wasn't very much different. And Virginia didn't think that her parents knew what had happened. So it was pretty much up to Virginia to make sure that the girl had everything she needed and that she got some sort of companionship besides Mephite.

And a huge dog that would just as soon rip your head off as look at you couldn't have been that wonderful of a companion. Harry seemed like he wanted to talk to Hermione, but had no idea what to say. Virginia knew he'd crack eventually, though. As for the Slytherins, Pansy, Melody and Daphne hated the girl more than ever, Crabbe and Goyle thought that she was flaky, always acting so high-and-mighty and then turning around and fucking Anton at the drop of a hat, and Anton himself couldn't have cared less. It was, after all, just a fuck. The only part he didn't like was that it pissed off Pansy. And Draco and Blaise…Well, after the initial disgust that they'd felt at the very thought, they'd found it all rather amusing.

"You know what he said to her?" Fred asked, and Hermione stood, nodding.

"Yes, yes, I do." She replied, looking quite smug about it. "Both times."

"_WHAT!?_" The twins yelled in unison, and Ron slunk backwards a bit. "What do you mean '_both_ times'?"

"You're going to listen to that _whore_?" Ron interrupted, and their mum glared him into silence.

"_Excuse me_, Ronald?" Their mum said slowly, her cheeks turning red. "_What_ did you just say?"

"Later, mum." Fred said, his attention back on Hermione. "What was it?"

"Let's see." Hermione said, extending her fingers as she counted, ticking off his offences. "He basically said that he's never been more disappointed in anyone, that she's a complete disgrace to your family, and that he no longer considers her a sister of his or a Weasley at all."

Silence. And then a velvety voice slid out of the trees, along with its owner.

"You forgot the part about her being nothing more than mine and Draco's concubine." Blaise offered, a cruel smile on his permanently bruised-looking lips. "That was definitely _my_ favorite part."

Silence. Then booming exclamations of, "YOU SAID_ WHAT!?_" Ron slunk back even farther, as he now had the angry eyes of not only the twins on him, but those of his parents, his oldest brother, and Blaise as well. Their mum exploded first.

"I NEVER – RONALD WEASLEY, HOW _DARE_ YOU SAY SUCH DISGUSTING THINGS TO YOUR SISTER!? HOW _DARE_ YOU?? AS IF THE POOR THING HASN'T BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH ALREADY, YOU GO AND DO _THIS_? WHEN SHE NEEDS THE SUPPORT OF HER FAMILY MORE THAN EVER, YOU_ INSULT_ HER!? HER LIFE AND HER DECISIONS ARE NONE OF YOUR BLOODY BUSINESS! IF I EVER, _EVER_ HEAR OF YOU DOING SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN, IT WON'T BE _HER_ WHO ISN'T A WEASLEY ANYMORE!" Looking shocked at what she'd just said, their mum fell back into her chair, while Ron looked abashed and horrified.

"Mum, I-" He started, but the heavy glowers of the other Weasley males, Charlie included since he'd appeared out of the forest after Blaise, had his voice dying out. Blaise came to Virginia's side, sitting beside her and wrapping a strong arm around her waist. She leaned into him, grateful for his presence. This is why she hadn't said anything to the rest of her family about Ron's behavior. She knew from experience that it would only make him more stubborn and angry then before. And she was right. He seemed to gather himself up after a minute, staring at them defiantly.

"Ooooh, brave look for a dead fool." Fred said through clenched teeth.

"So, what, you're going to beat me up just 'cause I disagree with you?" Ron snapped, and then turned to Virginia. "You know what, Ginny? You're pretty fucked up, turning the twins against me. And have you told them _why_ I said those things? Huh? _Have you!?_" He nearly screamed when she didn't answer. Looking at him, she searched for the brother she'd once known. The brother that he'd been before Harry Potter, before Hogwarts, before his growing desire to be in the limelight. Funnily enough, she didn't feel quite as disappointed as she'd thought she would when all she saw was him as he was right then. Angry, jealous, mean, and immature.

"Fuck this." She murmured, and Blaise's arm tightened around her. They stood as one, and she looked up at her family. "We're leaving. I have no intention of having my Yule ruined because Ron can't grow the fuck up." She then turned to Ron himself. "And you…You don't have to worry about calling me sister any longer. I'm arranging to have all familial ties with you cut. All that will be required of you is your signature." Facing the rest of her now-stunned family again, she inclined her head briefly. "And what he's so dying for you to know is that he turned from me because he discovered that the Sorting Hat's first choice for me was Slytherin. If any of you feel the same, I won't hold it against you. I leave you time to think."

Then they were gone, melting into the shadows under the trees before the others even saw them leave. She shot a single glance backwards, unable to help herself, and glimpsed her family's looks of complete surprise. Except for the twins. They actually looked as if they'd _expected_ it. And they didn't seem displeased in the least, just considering. Tearing her eyes away, she let Blaise lead her through the thick trunks and over the deep snow, her heart feeling lighter. There had been no recrimination or disdain in the twins' eyes. Sensing her smile, Blaise turned to look at her, never abating his speed as they dashed between trees.

"So, did you mean it?" He asked, a wicked smile on his face. "Please say you meant it."

"About severing my ties with him? Yes." She said, and his grin grew as he finally began to slow to a walk. They broke through the endless trees and came out on an icy, stone path that wound out of sight ahead and behind them. As soon as their feet hit the tiles, Draco dropped from a low hanging branch, landing nimbly a couple of yards from them.

"Still want to see the dragon?" He asked curiously. "Or do you just want to leave and see it later? Charlie's going to take the others."

"Honestly? Later." She said, just needing…away. She didn't even want to be in a fifty-mile radius while her family made their decisions about what she'd just told them. They nodded, and Draco took her other hand.

"Let's go then." He said, and they set out for the Manor.

It didn't take them very long to get there at a dead run, and they were all laughing by the time they slid into the front foyer. They went to the nearest plaque, slicing their palms and disappearing to their bedroom one by one. They each grabbed a heavy, deep-hooded, velvet winter cloak, Virginia's emerald green, Blaise's a dark, dusky silver, and Draco's as black as night. They took their time putting them on each other and smoothing braids, reality seeming to slow and fade as it always did when they were alone. Eventually they made it to the foyer again, and were more than a bit surprised to find Fred and George waiting for them.

"There you are!" Fred said when they appeared next to the plaque. "We were starting to wonder why that elf said to wait here."

"Honestly, running off and making us chase you!" George huffed, unable to hide his grin. "Thought we'd never find our way back through those woods."

"Some interesting plants and animals, though." Fred added. "I just _know_ I saw some of those tropical berries that make exploding paste. Growing in the _snow_, at that."

"And I swear there was a wood nymph that waved at me…" George commented thoughtfully. "But where are you off to?"

"Paris." Draco said, before his lips twisted. "_Muggle_ Paris."

"How'd she talk you two into _that_?" The twins asked simultaneously, identical looks of disbelief on their faces. Virginia grinned. Draco's statement had shaken them up more then her admission had.

"You don't want to know." Blaise groaned. "She's bloody _evil_."

"Just now caught onto that, have you?" George asked sympathetically. "Don't worry, she fooled us at first, too. Sneaky, that one."

"Oh, bugger off, George." Virginia said, crossing her arms. "So do you two want to come? I know you've always wanted to go to Paris. I was going to ask earlier, but then…_that_ happened, and I thought…"

"Silly rose." Fred scolded mockingly. "Want to know a secret of ours to make it even?" She looked at him warily. She probably really didn't want to, knowing them as she did, but…

"Alright." She said, scrunching up her nose as she prepared to be told some wrong, disturbing thing that they had done at some point or another. She'd heard enough before to be anxious. They leaned in close, one twin whispering into each ear.

"Its first choice for us was Slytherin, as well."

Their words took a moment to penetrate, and when they did, her jaw dropped. She heard her lovers each suck in a breath, before Blaise snickered. That set Draco off, and soon they had both slid down the wall behind them, laughing quietly, yet quite hysterically. Feeling laughter bubbling up in her own throat, she leaned back and looked at her brothers. Their eyes were sparking with mirth as they watched hers and her boyfriends' reactions, but they were still serious underneath it. _Holy shit, _she thought dazedly, _they're not fucking with me. _Looking back, she thought about them, thought about the qualities that made them who they were.

Tricksters to the last bone in their bodies, people didn't come much more sly then they did. Their plans were well thought out, and as cunning as they came. They were both filled to the brim with ambition, and she knew that they _would_ use any means to achieve their ends. They were stealthy and coy, and would put the blame on almost anyone else in a heartbeat to save themselves or one that they loved. Wondering how in the hell she'd never put that all together before, she looked up at them with just a bit of awe. The twins…_Slytherins_? But it all made sense in a weird sort of way. Shaking her head, she kissed each of them on the cheek.

"Gods, this is too much." Blaise gasped, still snickering madly. "Something's gone very, very wrong with the bloodlines lately."

"Oui." Draco agreed, trying to stop his own laughter. "First, a Black becomes a Gryffindor and a Pettigrew a Slytherin, and now three Weasleys were meant to be snakes. I think I'm dying."

"Next thing you know, Severus will tell us he was supposed to be a Hufflepuff." Blaise crowed, and they all laughed at that. Until a voice rang out, echoing off the marble around them.

"Care to repeat that, Blaise?" Severus growled, and their laughter died abruptly. Looking up in horror at the Potion Master's livid face, they glanced at each other quickly, deciding unanimously the best course of action.

"_Run!_" And they did. They took off back into the Manor, as Severus was blocking the front doors, and Draco and Blaise took the lead, showing them through the twisting, maze-like corridors. Curses flew over their heads as Severus tracked them, before Draco threw a hand out behind him and coated the floor in ice. Two more turns and twenty seconds later, they heard Severus shout.

"DRACO MALFOY!" Sniggering, they continued their flight until they'd gone up a few floors and made more turns then they could count. They came out in a room that was missing the far wall, and brooms lined the others. Blaise grabbed two more winter cloaks out of a closet to their right, each done in a shimmery, hazel velvet, and tossed them to the twins.

"We'll fly out past the wards, since you two can't Apparate off the grounds." He said, and when they reached for the Infinities, he stopped them. "No, the others will be faster. _Accio__ Elements_."

Moments later, five of the new, ebony brooms came through the open wall, stopping and hovering in front of each of them. Pulling their hoods low over their faces, they mounted the brooms and kicked off, soaring out of the room and into the open, cloudy grey sky. The ride to the edge of the property still took quite a while even by air, but it provided a glorious view. When they did touch down, their cheeks were flushed from the chilly air and the love of flying, and the twins gave her proud looks when they found out that she could Apparate on her own. After that, it was off to Paris. They appeared in an empty alleyway that smelled of old cabbage, and Virginia sneezed.

"Eww." She said, covering her nose with her sleeve.

The others did the same and they left as quickly as possible, coming out onto a busy, crowded sidewalk, surrounded by people speaking rapidly in French. And then they made a day of it. After a lot of prodding, considering that they were the only two completely fluent in the language, they convinced Draco and Blaise to ask for a city map. With long-suffering sighs, they had done so, and their next stop was wizarding Paris, in order to switch out gold for muggle money. Her boyfriends looked at the small piece of plastic that they were handed blankly, and Virginia's grin fell. She'd seen pounds and francs before, due to her eccentric father, but she had no idea what _that_ was.

"What," Draco started slowly, "the fuck is that?" The goblin behind the counter gave a toothy, creepy smile.

"That, my lord, is a credit card. Money." He added when they continued to stare uncomprehendingly. "With the amount you wanted converted, it was the more sensible choice."

"This," Blaise said, waving the tiny colored card in the air, "is actually _worth_ something? You have to be kidding."

"No, my lord, I am not. Muggles are strange. I know not why they use scraps of processed trees and rubber glass to pay for things. I just know that they do."

"As you say." Blaise said, still looking skeptical.

Then they explored the city. They cheated, of course, using alleys and sight shields to Apparate to the places they wanted to see. The map told them the 'best spots', and their first stop was the Louvre. They saw the Oriental antiques, the sculpture galleries, the Greek and Roman sections, the paintings, the prints and drawings, the medieval area. They saw the _Mona Lisa_, the _Venus de Milo_, and the _Victory of Samothrace_, just among a few. But the Egyptian section entranced them. They loved the ancient feeling about the artifacts, loved the sarcophaguses and the burial scenes, and Draco and Blaise, particularly, liked the fact that they'd worshiped cats.

Their next stop was the Comédie Française, the most renowned theater in France, and they saw Le Malade Imaginaire by Molière. It was preformed beautifully, and not even her boyfriends had anything negative to say when they left. They had a late lunch at one of the many cafés, and since her boyfriends and her brothers refused to go to the Eiffel Tower during the day when everyone was there, they decided to make one more sightseeing stop before they headed for the shops. There was a white domed building that they'd been able to see from almost everywhere in the city, and curiosity drew them towards it.

"What is it?" George wondered aloud, and the rest of them shrugged. As they approached it, climbing an endless column of stairs, they could see two smaller domes to either side of the huge central one. It wasn't until they were almost to the front doors that Virginia and her boyfriends recoiled. The twins made it another few feet before they, too, pulled back and stopped abruptly.

"What in Merlin's name is _that_?" Fred asked, drawing back farther and nearly running into Draco. Her lover steadied him with a hand on the small of his back, shaking his head.

"I don't know. But I don't like it." Draco said as they stayed still, the crush of other people around them flowing to either side of their small group.

"My arm feels like its burning." Virginia mumbled, rubbing it through her sleeve. Her lovers nodded slightly, and George looked around until he spotted some tourists speaking English.

"Hey!" He called, and the woman and her husband turned around.

All Virginia could think for a moment was that muggles were extremely odd, and that no matter what Hermione said, she would never understand them. The couple was wearing matching outfits, and each had a huge camera around their necks. They were bundled up from head to toe in poofy, plastic-looking coats, which were quite horridly done in yellow, orange and pastel green. Their boots were covered in an ugly, shaggy, fake fur that had matted together in dreadlocks because of the wet snow, and both were grinning like lunatics, walking over to them immediately. Their grins grew when Fred and George pulled back their hoods and they saw that they were twins.

"Hi!" The woman said cheerfully. "I'm Mattie, and this is Edmond."

"I'm Thomas." Fred said in reply. "And this is my brother…Hubert. We've never been here before, see. Do you by any chance know what this place is? We left our map back at a café."

"Oh, of course I do, honey!" The woman said, shooting a curious glance at Virginia and her boyfriends, all three of whom still had their hoods pulled low. "This is the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur." When the twins' expressions remained deadpan, she elaborated. "You know, honey, a church. A very famous one."

The word 'church' cut through them like a knife, since only muggles had churches and their god hated those with magical blood, and they all took a few stumbling steps backwards, hisses escaping their lips. The couple looked startled, their eyes growing wide at their reaction, but Virginia didn't have time to worry about them. Her Mark had started burning fiercely, and she could feel the current of power that had stopped them from entering earlier push at her. Bending over double as it clawed at her, she dug her nails into her fists and tried to breathe. Her Mark suddenly pulsed and the pain receded enough for her to straighten up, her hood falling back.

"Oh my lord." The woman said, staring bug-eyed at Virginia. What the fuck was she looking at?

"Not good." She heard George mumble, right before the woman shrieked.

"OH MY LORD!!" She repeated, her finger pointed at Virginia, and the other people around them slowed, turning to look. A few let out exclamations of surprise, and more then a few screamed. A second later, her boyfriends were in front of her and the twins behind her, shielding her from the crowd's gawking gazes.

Running her hands over her face, Virginia couldn't feel anything wrong. So what the hell were they freaking out over? She had a good idea a moment later, when the crowd tried to converge on them. Draco and Blaise threw their own hoods back, and she saw that the Marks activating had split their pupils and caused their fangs to grow into sharp points. _Wonderful_, she thought sarcastically. What were they going to do? They couldn't use magic in the middle of a crowd of muggles, let alone on the steps of the Burning God's temple. _Church_, she corrected herself wryly, _not temple_. _They are nothing like us no matter what anyone says. _

"Back away." Her lovers demanded in unison, but it simply made the onlookers more curious then before. It was when the first muggle touched Blaise that Draco came up with an alternate solution besides magic. Twin swords that glinted in the sunlight and that seemed to come from nowhere finally caught the crowd's attention. Screams started again and Blaise grabbed her arm.

"Come on, mon aimé." He said, and Draco spun one blade in a slow, liquid move.

"Ezutîël, make our lady a path." He whispered under his breath, and nine serpent-like shadows slid from everywhere and nowhere.

At the appearance of more hooded figures, the watching spectators began fleeing, and a wall of male strength surrounded her, ushering her away. They made it back onto the streets and ran aimlessly, simply wanting as much distance as possible between them and the scene that had just occurred. They couldn't move as fast with the twins as they could have on their own, but her brothers were still as athletic and in shape as they had been at Hogwarts. The Ezutîël disappeared again as they finally slowed back to a walk, and they saw that they were in a slummy part of town. The rich velvet of their cloaks seemed to stand out against the grime and filth vividly.

"Let's just get back to our part of town, hmm?" Draco suggested, and they nodded. Fred did a quick seeking spell, and they found that they weren't that far from the closest entrance to wizarding Paris. It was when they made it into that back alley that all hell broke loose. George had just finished opening the entrance when a scruffy band of thieves blocked the way behind them, pointing some odd smelling metal…_things_ at their chests.

"Back away from that wall, real slow like." One of them said in a heavy French accent. "And put your hands over your heads." Her boyfriends looked at them as if they'd gone mad.

"You don't want to do this, muggle." Blaise warned, and the man scoffed. There was a shout behind them as some witches and wizards on the other side of the boundary noticed what was happening, but Virginia was too busy trying to remember what her boyfriends had told her about muggle weapons.

"I'm the one with the gun, sonny." The dirt-caked man spat out. A gun, that was it! But what did it _do_? She couldn't for the life of her remember. She'd never had the interest in muggles that her father did, nor even the mild interest in their weapons that her lovers had. "Now give us your money and valuables. Those rings for a start."

"You want my ring?" Draco asked, lifting his hand and letting the sunlight flicker on the emeralds and platinum of his signet ring. The men's eyes turned greedy, and the one she supposed was the leader nodded. "Well, then, by all means. Try it on. I'm sure it'll look splendid on you." The twins looked shocked, as if that was the last thing that they'd expected Draco to say. He took his ring off and walked up to the man slowly. Four Aurors came through the entrance behind them, and when Draco spotted them, he raised his voice. "I'm warning you now, though. If you steal my ring, you won't like what happens."

"There ain't shit you or your buddies are going to do." The man said, his gun aimed at Draco's head. He snatched the ring out of her boyfriend's hand, slid it on, and promptly slumped to the ground. His accomplices froze, while Draco calmly leaned down and retrieved his ring from the limp, lifeless finger.

"I told you." He said, and was back with them before the muggles or the Aurors saw him move.

Virginia started to move for him, her hood falling back again, and one of the thieves snapped. He twisted to face her, and she saw and heard him pull the trigger almost in slow motion. Remembrance hit her as she watched the bullet fly out of the gun, her boyfriends' voices floating through her mind, telling her about the way those weapons worked. Everything still seeming to move horrifying slow, she saw her boyfriends' eyes flash as they moved for her, but she knew the four feet they were from her was too much. Her eyes closing as she waited for the impact, they sprung open again when she felt someone push her back and slam into her.

She met Fred's cornflower blue eyes, watched pain engulf them as she heard the bullet rip through flesh, and caught his weight easily as he collapsed against her. Everything sped back up in an instant, the gunshot still echoing through the alley along with his strangled cry. She distantly heard George scream, distantly heard more shots fired, distantly heard spells being cast. Throwing a fiery shield over her and her brother, she let them sink to the ground. Cradling him in her lap, she ripped the cloak and shirt off of him, and then carefully turned him over so she could see his back. There was a huge, meaty wound on the mid-left side, and blood was seeping out of it steadily.

A sob rising in her throat, she ripped his shirt into two long strips, folded them together quickly, and pressed them to the wound. Hands grabbed her from behind and she screamed, turning with a fistful of flames ready to throw when she saw Blaise. One look in her eyes and he stopped midway from taking Fred from her, instead just helping her to her feet and keeping her steady. She stood, very glad at that moment for her strength. Her mind seemed stuck, utterly devoid of conscious thought except for six words. _Get him safe_. _Get him healed_. Blaise's lips were moving, but she couldn't hear him, and she concentrated, trying to understand, trying to focus.

"-afe! Cher un, it's safe, drop the shield! You have to drop it, we have to get inside. More muggles will come any moment. _Can you hear me_?" He shook her shoulders and she started walking, then running for the entrance.

She slid through, dropping the shield as she came out on the other side. People swarmed around her, Draco and Blaise holding them off. When the French witches and wizards saw who they were, they got the opposite of the reaction they would have in Britain. Nearly every one of them kneeled, before rising and asking how they could help. Looks of adoration, respect or simple neutrality shone on their faces, and she realized that many of them had probably known, to some degree, or at least seen frequently, the two of them since their…childhood. They'd grown up in France, after all. But her attention was for Fred and Fred only at the moment.

"Séjour dos et floo Malfoy Manoir. Laisser nos mères connaître quoi advenu et acquérir quelques eau, affinier emmailloters et un maison lutin." She could hear Draco ordering someone quietly while she dropped to the ground again and cursed not knowing how to heal bullet wounds as she tried to stop the flow of blood. ((Stay back and floo Malfoy Manor. Let our mothers know what happened and get some water, clean bandages and a house elf.))

The shirt was already soaked through, and she was a second from ripping her cloak off when a bundle of silver velvet landed next to her leg. Taking Blaise's cloak and sending a silent 'thank you' through the Marks, she ripped the expensive cloth lengthwise right before he kneeled beside her. He started to push the sleeves of his robe up, and then seemed to lose patience as he saw her brother becoming paler and paler. Forgetting the sleeves, he laid his hands on Fred's back just as George fell beside them, looking pale and sick as he stared at his twin. He took one of Fred's clammy hands in his, his whole body shaking from shock and horror.

Draco was still giving orders and keeping everyone away from them, and when the snow underneath Virginia and Fred became as soft as any mattress could hope to be, she knew he was paying more attention to them then to the people he was talking to. Blaise's hands began glowing darkly, and Fred's eyes flew open, filling with darkfire. George's mirrored his, as their twinbond was exceptionally strong, and Virginia let her palm rest on the back of Blaise's neck, feeding him raw power for him to direct to healing. The muscles in Fred's back began to spasm and George cried out, clutching his hand tighter, his knuckles turning white.

"Oh gods!" She heard her mother exclaim from behind her, before she felt her drop to the snow beside them. "Oh, Fred, no. No, baby, no." Her mother was chanting in quiet sobs, and Virginia would have wrapped an arm around her had it not already been around Fred. That's when Blaise's voice slid through her head.

'_Dray, it hit his spleen and a kidney. And…the bullet was spelled. This was no coincidence. I can heal him but it'll drain me; there's no time to go to Reverie. Something doesn't feel right here. We need out as soon as I'm done, oui?_'

_'Oui. __Virginia?_

_'Yes?' _

_'Let Blaise take Fred's weight. We must shield and guard them.'_

_'Alright.' _She agreed, and let Blaise shift Fred gently into his lap. She rose on shaky feet and let Draco take her hand. Steeling herself, she looked around and saw the rest of her family there except for Ron, as well as Narcissa, Severus and Silana. She and Draco moved off to the side, and she could barely take her eyes off of Fred. He'd nearly gotten himself killed. _For her_. He had, apparently, known what a gun was, and yet he'd still put himself in front of her, still shielded her. And she'd seen the look in his eyes before the pain had hit. She'd seen that he'd expected to die. But he'd done it anyway.

"He _will_ be alright, won't he?" Virginia asked, her voice low. Draco answered her, never stopping his scan of the shops and homes around them.

"Yes. It'll be bad for a day at most as long as we can get him back to the Manor without reopening it."

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard, right?" Silence. "_Right?_"

"It feels strange here." Draco finally responded. "I know you can sense it, too. I have a bad feeling about all of this." It was her turn to stay quiet that time. She _could_ feel it. It prickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and had her eyes and ears straining. It was like the crushing feeling before a storm, like-

"Fuck!" She and Draco exclaimed at once, half a second before a building down the street exploded.

Screams rent the air, and Draco threw a shield over her family, Blaise, Severus and their mothers. Debris rained down as people began running, and she could see her brothers, but for the twins, and her father trying to get out of the shield. Looking down the street, she saw Death Eaters pour out of the smoke clogging the air, and felt a furious fire begin to burn within her. Blaise's words rang through her mind once more, and the fury intensified. '_Dray, it hit his spleen and a kidney. And…the bullet was spelled._' Rage engulfing her from head to toe, she stalked forward. They were going to pay this day. She was tired of being nice, tired of seeing those she loved hurt.

"Virginia…" Draco called from beside her, and she stopped long enough to face him.

"Do you trust me?"

"_What?_" He asked, as if that was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. A curse flew past his head, which he easily dodged, and she smiled grimly.

"Do you trust me?" She repeated, and he nodded wordlessly. "Then use your strength to shield everyone but the Death Eaters."

"Vir-"

"Just do it!" She half-snapped, half-pleaded, begging him with her eyes to trust her.

"Fine." And then there was no more time for words. She shoved him back when he hesitated, and he leaned in and stole a quick kiss before he turned back around, icy shields springing up around those still in the streets. He continued feeding power into them, especially the one that Blaise and Fred were in, and her attention went to the slowly advancing Death Eaters.

Just looking at them doubled her anger, for she knew who had sent them. _Him_. Voldemort. Fucking with their lives again. Remembered flashes lit behind her eyes as she thought of him. Flashes of her dreams, of Draco and Blaise's memories of bleeding at that bastard's hands. Flashes of her first year, of deception and treachery. Flashes of Percy's twisted eyes, of the Dark Mark burned into his freckled skin. Flashes of the Deep Lord, flashes of Marcus. All his doing. It was all him, had _always_ been him, and she was fucking tired of it. She hated him down to the last cell in her body, hated him with everything in her.

Letting her rage grow until it had engulfed her mind in a red haze, until it burned white-hot inside of her core, she kept feeding it. Every step the masked figures took had the flames within her soul growing, spreading, eating any rational thought as all she could think of was spilling their blood, of thwarting their master. Leaking out from her center, it washed through every vein and nerve ending, swamped every cell and pore until it forced her to her knees. She heard the Death Eaters' mocking laughter as she fell, and laughed cruelly at their ignorance. The snow all around her on the ground was melting and steaming, and she waited.

"Looks like the muggles failed." She heard one Death Eater comment. "Bonus for us. We'll be rewarded greatly for taking this prize back to our Lord."

"Well, by all means," she said, looking up at them through her scarlet hair with scorching eyes, "I do dare you to try."

Her fury had far past reached the boiling point, and her blood would set it free. So when they drew up on her and one went to kick her in the face, she let him. She felt her head snap around but nothing more, and her blood splattered on the snow. A feral, enraged scream was torn from her as the power left her in a huge, spherical blast, incinerating everything in its path. She felt it hit her lover's shields, recognize them, and slide around and over them before continuing on another twenty or thirty yards. Slumping to the ground fully with the release, she fought for breath, utterly exhausted. So when she heard her lover's warning, she could do nothing but look up.

"The end of the street! One survived!" Draco screamed, and she saw a lone Death Eater running right at her.

Draco rushed past her in a blur, right as four more joined the first. They were obviously stragglers, far enough behind their peers to have been spared in her unleashing. They circled Draco and she watched blearily as he picked them off one by one. After the second fell, she saw yet another shadow slip out of a closer alleyway, heading straight for her. She tried to raise her voice, tried to scream for help, but nothing came out. When he was less then twenty feet from her and closing fast, Draco snapped the last Death Eater in half over one knee. He spun, saw the one coming at her, and started running again. _Too far_, she thought hazily, _too far_.

A ball of ice flew through the air, and only missed because the Death Eater hit the ground. Crawling quickly, he was no more then ten feet away when Virginia saw someone slide straight through one of Draco's shields, which should have been impossible unless it was Blaise or herself. But it couldn't be Blaise, since he would be as worn out as she was by then. The Death Eater reached her at the same time she glimpsed the Ezutîël rushing for her, but she knew that they would be too late as well. The bastard grabbed her, started to speak an Apparation spell, and the snow around them exploded, wrapping around him like a living cloak.

His intent changing, the Death Eater whispered a guttural spell, his wand turning into a deadly edged, foot-long, glistening blade. Knowing her time was up, knowing help was still two seconds too many away, she tried to lift her arm to ward off the blow. The snow was eating his skin off, she _knew_ it was, but the sick, pleased glint in the eyes behind the mask didn't change. His arm lifted, paused long enough for her to smell the Whomping Willow sap on the blade, and came down. Forcing her eyes to stay open, to see what befell her and not look away, she nearly went ahead and died of shock when it never came.

Vines sprung out of the ground, joining the snow in its strangling vise-like grip and pinning him to the ground, the poisoned blade falling to the side. Draco was on him half a second later, the vines freezing and shattering as he ripped them away furiously, and he was pulling the son of a bitch up by his hair a moment later. The Death Eater did scream then, as he saw who held him, and Virginia looked around, fighting to stay awake, trying to see who had helped her. Her eyes fell on a figure less than two feet from her, who was staring at their still-outstretched hand in disbelief, as if they couldn't believe what they'd just done.

But Virginia had a bigger problem. Her mind spinning madly as she took the person in piece by piece, she felt her Mark flare as their eyes met hers. Feeling as if the ground had become less than solid underneath her, they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and she saw recognition flare in the other's eyes. Looking them over again, Virginia felt her body beginning to shake. Skin like cream that had been mixed in mocha. A lithe, willowy frame that spoke of grace even while stunned and sitting. Eyes so dark a brown they were almost black, with impossibly green speckles littering them like tiny jewels. Waist-length hair like liquid silk rosewood.

The person that had been haunting hers and her lovers' dreams. The person whose scent of orchids and earth lingered even after they woke.

"Virginia, I—I _had_ to help, I don't know why, or how I…"

"It's alright." Virginia managed to choke out with the very last dregs of her strength, right before darkness claimed her. "It's alright, Padma."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Evil place to leave off, eh? Yeah, well, review or…or…I'll never post again! And you'll be left here forever! Mwahahahahahahaha! (But, really, tell me what you thought, please!)


	20. Questions and Preparations

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to my beloved reviewers: tkmoore**, if I had a kingdom, I would give it to you. (grins insanely) it's just 'cause I love ya, man!** seri-chan**, (bows down and kisses your feet) loveyouloveyouloveyou…**jenn**, a voldie barbie…a voldie barbie…(cackles) you're going to kill me! **Catalina Royce**, your review was so long and wonderful and you are just AWESOME! **Haunted-Shadows**, thank you! and I use Babylon pro. **sillysun**, thanks! I hope the story meets your expectations in the end!** aoi-yuki-yume**, was that S.K. book (I'm assuming it's a book) worth reading? and thanks for the badass review, as usual!** babykelyse**, another early chapter, so don't go starve to death on me, ok? lol **power of the stars**, your review had me cracking up! and I know I didn't, lol. **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, hope this was quick enough! **Tytianne**, thank you a bagillion times! **tcup**, thanks, I will! **TarynMalfoy88**, yeah, Padma was a bit of a curve ball, eh? lol **yellow notepaper**, thanks, and I reviewed just for you! **Voldemort8**, forgive me! I'll attempt to up the death factor for you, hmm? lol **me**, don't die! I need your reviews like I need air, damn it! **Ludra**, hope this was soon enough, lol. **Skotos****Enigma**, aren't they pretty, though? I totally agree (obviously). and thanks for the great review! **fanfare**, because they're hot that way, silly. **gin**** rose raposo1**, thanks, and here is the 'more' you requested! **potts**, thank you! **Meryl**, (laughing my ass off at your review) that was great! :)** RebbeccaTurner01**, no! no sporks! and I joined that Penta one, just for you! **kia**, what people, hun? tell me and I'll try to clear it up for you. **candice364**, thanks! **short**** arse**, thanks, as usual! **el**** chikita joules**, thank you so much! **Danni is Divine, James is Mine**, Thank you, thank you, thank you! **Fallen**, Padma Patil is Parvati Patil's twin sister, a Ravenclaw. lol :) **a:sam**, as always, thank you! **xxbabysparklesxx**, thanks! **moonspirit11**, THANKS! **coolchick**, updated! lol **Angie**, no problem, and thank you!

**Author's Note**: Thanks to a lovely reviewer, pitchic05, it has come to my attention that when using my beloved little French endearments, 'mon' instead of 'ma' is supposed to be used before a word starting with a vowel. Sooooo…I'll be doing it that way from now on, and I'll eventually go back through the other chapters and fix those. Thanks, pitchic05!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..****

Hermione sat cross-legged against one wall in the bustling main parlor, watching as house elves and ghosts scurried back and forth on errands. They were the only sorts of servants that she'd seen during her stay, unless you counted the Dementors, Red Caps and Porlocks, the two small covens of banshees and hags, or the occasional Sphinx. Currently, the entire Manor was in an uproar. But not the kind that she'd expected. Everyone from the lady of the house to the tiniest elf was dashing about madly, decorating the Manor for the Yule Ball that they held there every other year. She hadn't even known there would _be_ one until Molly had swooped into her room yesterday morning.

The woman had woken her up with a steaming tray of food and a warm smile, telling her to hurry and eat while she got her something to wear. Asking what the rush was, Hermione had wolfed down two pieces of toast and a boiled egg by the time Molly had laid out an outfit for her. Pulling her nightgown off and her robes on, she'd listened to Molly's rushed explanation about the ball the night after next. The Malfoys and Zabinis had been celebrating Yule together for centuries, and the annual Yule Ball was held at Malfoy Manor one year, Tenebre Stella the next. It was to be a grand affair, the event of choice for society's elite.

Wizarding nobility from all over the world would be in attendance, and Hermione felt herself growing more nervous by the minute. She was on lunch break at the moment, her empty platter sitting next to her on the floor. Mephite was on her other side, and she scratched his massive head idly, as he'd finally started to at least _tolerate_ her touch. His thick, soft fur under her fingers made her feel a bit better, but she knew it wouldn't last. Someone on the other side of the room shrieked, and she looked over to see Narcissa waving her wand threateningly at Blaise and George, who were snickering and having to hold onto one another in order to keep standing.

They had, apparently, snuck up behind her with mistletoe, and both had laid sound kisses on her lips before she'd even seen them. Spluttering and very nearly blushing, she told them that they were both heathens and then covered them in glitter. Sneezing, Blaise threw George off balance and they fell back into Draco, who was fighting with a strand of ivy. He, in turn, toppled onto Snape, bringing half an hour's worth of ivy-work down with him, and all four lay in a pile on the floor, liberally covered in glitter. Then Ginny and Padma started laughing, shortly followed by the others, and Hermione couldn't stop from staring at the two girls.

To say that things had changed drastically in the last few days was an understatement of monumental proportions. After Ginny, Draco, Blaise and the twins had left the other day, Molly had caught her second wind and let Ron have it. She'd yelled for close to thirty minutes, and at the end, Ron had been reduced to a whimpering, cringing rag doll. They'd forgone going to see the dragon and had come back to the Manor, sitting in stony and contemplative silence. The Slytherins had departed, off to do who knew what, and they'd stayed like that for hours until a man's head had popped up out of nowhere in the fireplace.

Narcissa and Silana had recognized him immediately, and later told them that it had been a storeowner they knew. The man had been yelling their names, and when he saw them, he'd started rambling in French until Narcissa told him to switch to English for the Weasleys benefit. So he had, saying that a Weasley had been shot by a muggle and that Draco demanded they be informed immediately. Pandemonium had broken out instantly, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had been ordered to stay behind, as had the other Slytherins, who had reappeared at the man's shouting. When everyone had returned, Hermione had felt like her heart had stopped.

Draco had once again been covered in blood, a limp, seemingly dead Ginny in his arms, while Snape had been a step behind him, carrying Blaise, who had been in much the same condition as she was, except his hands and sleeves were coated with dried red flakes. George had been right on their heels, a deathly pale Fred cradled against his chest, while Padma Patil, of all people, had been holding Ginny's lifeless hand. Molly had been sobbing, leaning into Arthur, and the others who'd gone with them, along with a woman that she later discovered was Padma's aunt, hadn't been far behind. All had looked shocked and worried, before disappearing into the endless corridors.

Afterwards, they'd learned what had happened. Pansy and Anton had raised hell to the point of rioting until they'd been allowed in to see their friends, and had come out soon afterwards, looking quite a bit calmer. Blaise and Ginny had both been deep in a healing sleep, and Draco had been exhausted to the point of collapsing, as he'd poured every last bit of his energy into his lovers in order to speed up their recovery time. To the surprise of all, Padma had refused to leave their side, keeping vigil even after Draco had slipped into sleep as well. Fred had been taken into their room with them, and all four had lain comatose on the sheets and furs for almost eight hours.

George had stayed as well, which surprised no one. The only other occupants of the room had been the pride of great cats, the two largest and one cub sleeping in the bed with them, and a huge leopard that was even larger then they were. The leopard had paws bigger then dinner plates and eyes that had no definable color. They'd simply reminded her of death and malevolence. Startled whispers from Bill and Charlie had let her know it was one of the feared and fearsome Nundu, and from what Narcissa had told them, it was the leader of the pride on the grounds. Later, after the four had awoken, everyone had gotten to visit them long enough to see that they were okay before they'd been kicked out again.

For two days after that, no one had seen hide nor hair of them, except for the twins, who had come out after the first day and had denied entrance to everyone else. There had been something…_different_ about them, and she could have sworn that their eyes had been a lighter blue before they'd gone into that room. The other four had stayed locked away for another day, and everyone else had been dying of curiosity. How had Padma gotten through Draco's shield? How had she done what she had to help Ginny? Why had they been looking at each other so strangely when everyone had gone to visit? And what in the fuck were they doing in there?

Fred and George had refused to tell them anything, so Molly had resorted to fussing over Fred. She'd had him show her the wound, but it hadn't been able to be called that any longer. Blaise had healed it and neutralized the slow-death spell that had been on the bullet, and that Draco had told Snape about before he'd passed out. All that was left of the nearly fatal injury was a circular patch of perfectly pale skin that was utterly devoid of freckles. Molly had then said, with tears in her eyes, that at least she had a new way to tell the twins apart. George had abolished that opinion by pulling his own shirt up, revealing a matching spot of blank flesh.

Then, yesterday morning, the four of them had appeared to help decorate as if nothing had happened. No one had said anything, opting to study them instead. There was a sense of peace around them, a sense of steadiness. And Padma's eyes…Had she ever seen eyes so calm, so serene? And the four of them had very nearly been moving in unison, and had to catch themselves from talking simultaneously more than once, to everyone's bafflement. The only people taking it in stride were the twins, but she was sure that they knew way more than the others did about what had happened in that room, about what had changed.

What was obvious was that Padma seemed to meld into their tight fold like a piece they hadn't realized was missing until it was there. But it was the _nature_ of her ties with them that made Hermione horridly curious. And, if she was honest, more than a bit envious. After all, she'd been wanting their friendship forever, failing miserably with every attempt and only barely winning Ginny back. But along comes Padma, out of the blue, and she's sucked right in. _No_, her mind argued, _there has to be more to it then that_. There's no way that they'd just blindly accepted her, no way that they'd just started trusting her for no reason, especially not Draco and Blaise.

Then _why_, goddamnit, had they? In a day and a half of watching them, her jealousy had grown no matter how hard she'd tried to stop it. They, along with the twins, had acted as if it had been just the six of them, as if everyone else was mostly invisible. And they acted as if it had always been that way. Oh, they still talked to everyone, especially the Slytherins, but you could see that their attention wasn't fully in it. What had drawn them together? What bonds had been forged between Padma, Ginny and her boyfriends? And what bonds did they now share with the twins? Basically, it kept coming back to '_what the fuck had happened in that room?_'

"Pansy!" Draco's voice cut through Hermione's musings. "I just opened the wards for your sister; she's coming through the floo!" He called out across the room to the dark haired girl, and she nodded, straightening up and abandoning the green silk streamers that she was hanging from the ceiling with sticking spells. Lycelle and a house elf came into the parlor a few moments later, and the sisters embraced warmly, yet aloofly. Lycelle offered to help, and to Hermione's surprise, she walked over to her after greeting the others and seeing her alone.

"Want some help?" The girl asked, and Hermione felt like kissing her when she saw the sincere, yet slightly guarded, look in her eyes. Her only company was Ginny and Mephite, and the former was pulled in too many directions in the first place, while the latter barely acknowledged her existence.

"Um, well, sure. I mean, if you want to." Hermione said, and led her to where the baskets of fresh holly were. They worked in companionable silence for well over an hour, moving from room to room on the ground floor until they came out into the main foyer, where it seemed that almost everyone else had eventually migrated to as well.

She saw Draco nudge Blaise a while later and whisper something before the front doors flew open and a lithe, arrogant-looking girl glided in, hair as white-blond as Narcissa and Silana's flowing to the middle of her back in waves and swishing around her. She wore robes of pearl trimmed in silver, and her cheeks were pink from the cold air outside, making her azure eyes dark. She saw Draco and Blaise, and her cold mask cracked as she broke into a run. Blaise swept her into a hug immediately, spinning her around as she laughed, before passing her off to Draco, who sat her down lightly, kissing her cheek. A woman came in behind her, slightly taller, her hair just as fair.

"Who's that?" Hermione whispered, pointing to the girl, and Lycelle leaned in.

"Mira Zabini. She's Blaise's first cousin, his mother's sister's daughter. That's her mother, there." She whispered back, pointing at the woman. "Armynel Zabini. Was Armynel Fauluri until a little over a year ago. Her husband died, and Blaise let them take the name Zabini."

"It's good to see you, Mira." Draco said, causing their whispers to cease, and the girl laughed again.

"It is good to see you, as well, Draco." She said, her French accent distinct but not marring her English. Turning to Blaise, she punched him on the arm. "And _you_, cousin! You have not written in _weeks_!"

"Forgive me, dear Mira." Blaise smirked. "I've been a bit busy."

"Oui, oui, I know." She rolled her eyes. "I read the papers, which you've been highlighted in quite often. This latest dilemma has the whole country bristling. But tell me one thing, truthfully, because I'm dying to know: Did you _really_ beat the shit out of Potter?" A mocking smile curved his lips.

"Ask him yourself." He said, and her blue eyes widened.

"_What?_" She asked incredulously. "_Here?_" When he nodded, a distasteful look on his face, she spun, running her gaze over the people around her for the first time. She spotted Harry, and stalked up to him. Looking startled, he backed away a step or two at her rapid approach, until his back hit the wall. "Well, well," she drawled, "look what we have here. Fresh meat. Can we hurt him?"

"Gods, I wish." Draco muttered, while Hermione sucked in a breath. She didn't like the lilt in Mira's voice. It hadn't been entirely…_human_. Almost certain at that point that the girl in front of her was more than just a little veela, Hermione sighed. Wonderful. Another veela that was sure to despise her.

"Mira, that's enough. Leave that Potter brat alone." Armynel called, her voice a slightly older version of her daughter's, and Hermione started when she saw just how much the woman resembled Silana now that she saw them side by side. "I, for one, am dying to meet Virginia." She said, her teal eyes falling on Ginny, who was standing with Padma and Pansy a little to the right of her boyfriends. Mira walked back over to her cousin, her gaze now running over Ginny from head to toe. Instead of doing what Hermione would have and dropping her eyes to the floor, Ginny stared right back, and just as bluntly. Ignoring her for the moment, Mira looked at Padma.

"What are you doing here early, Padma? I didn't think your family was arriving until tomorrow night like everyone else's."

"They aren't." Padma replied neutrally, although she did take a subtle, yet meaningful, step closer to Ginny. "I helped them in Paris."

"Did you? You weren't in the article."

"I asked not to be." Padma said, her soft, lyrical voice like grass rustling in the wind. Mira nodded, and finally turned to Ginny.

"So, you're the one who thinks you're good enough for my cousin, oui?" Mira asked acidly, and Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You don't look very special to me. But I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything more. You _are_ British, after all." She stated, and Hermione wondered if she was blind. The girl herself was beautiful, but Ginny's dark radiance was nearly incomparable.

"So sorry to disappoint." Ginny replied in a sickly sweet voice, every word dripping sugary poison. "You must be the cousin they told me couldn't keep her legs closed. Oh well, better a British bitch than a French floozy."

"Are you calling me a whore?" Mira demanded, outraged. Ginny sneered.

"No. Whores get paid." She said viciously, and Hermione braced herself for the first explosion. But it didn't come, as instead of freaking out, Mira gave a small smile.

"I guess you're alright." She said, and Ginny returned her grin. What the hell? _They were about to murder each other two seconds ago, and now they're hugging_? "They told me you were, but…"

"Don't worry about it." Ginny said, her charcoal eyes bright with amusement. "I was warned on how to handle you."

"_Handle me?_" Mira scowled. "Blaise…"

"Wasn't me."

"Draco…"

"Nope. Completely innocent, this time."

"Gregory! Vincent!" Mira whispered harshly, spinning to face the culprits. Putting on a hurt expression, she crossed her arms over her chest. "So you've been saying mean things about me again?" She asked, while Gregory and Vincent stared. Hermione supposed Mira must have grown a bit since they'd last seen her.

"Would we do that?" Goyle asked quietly, a teasing note in his voice, and Hermione noticed that the surprised stares weren't one-sided. Mira drew closer to them, her eyes soaking them in, and Blaise and Draco exchanged knowing glances.

"Yes." The girl replied. "I do believe you would. And didn't you two pretty up nicely?" She asked, an appreciative note to her voice, and Crabbe and Goyle looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "Want to go for a swim?" There wasn't really any more that needed to be said. They left after waving goodbye, and everyone started working again while Armynel introduced herself to Ginny. Sighing, Hermione let herself relax a bit. Perhaps that would be the worst they had to deal with today. _I mean, surely, _she thought to herself, _nothing else can happen, we're at the Manor. Safe. _Which was true. But she didn't take into count human stupidity.

"Hermione?" A familiar voice inquired from behind them, and Hermione put her basket down, but kept her wand. Maybe the Slytherins' paranoia was wiping off on her. Or maybe she still recalled too clearly the look in his eyes when he'd tried to stab Blaise in the back.

"Harry." She said, turning to face him.

Lycelle was looking at them strangely, but said nothing. Harry looked as if he was a second from bolting, and he was fidgeting uncomfortably. How had they come to this? A year ago, no, a _month_ ago, they were as close as she had thought it possible to be with another person outside of marriage. And now…Now she'd seen how close the Slytherins were, and she'd reevaluated their (hers, Harry's and Ron's) friendship, studying it from all angles. And she'd found it lacking. That belief had been reinforced when they'd turned on her in a second, over something that wasn't even any of their fucking business in the first place.

"I…" He started hesitantly, then drew himself up and took a deep breath. "Can we talk?" He asked, and shot a look at Lycelle. "Alone?"

"Well," she really shouldn't, she knew she shouldn't, but…"I guess so. Come on, there's an empty room over here." He nodded and followed her out of the foyer, and she led him to one of the rooms that they'd finished decorating earlier. He went in ahead of her, and she left the door open a crack in case someone needed them for something, while Mephite curled up in the hallway. "What do you want?" She started, wanting to get to the point of this discussion and then get out of there.

"To—to apologize." He said, and she wondered why his lost puppy expression wasn't affecting her like it usually did. But how could it? How could it when she knew that those innocent eyes could hold such unfeeling hatred? Shaking such thoughts from her head, she looked up at him.

"What's the point? You and Ron have made your opinions of me quite clear."

"No! Hermione, I don't…I'm not mad at you like Ron; I just didn't know what to say. I mean, why did you…"

"Why did I what? Sleep with Anton?" She suggested, and shrugged, feeling tired. "I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time. I just wanted—I don't know."

"Yes, you do!" He argued. "Never, _ever_, have you done something without thinking it through first. Even in the middle of a crisis, you still think of everything! I don't believe for a second that you didn't have a reason! So, just _tell_ me. You used to tell me everything."

"I just wanted to know what it was like, alright?" She said, walking past him to the window.

"But why _him_? Why a _Slytherin_? Have you _seen_ the way Pansy looks at you now? Everyone…Hermione, if you were just—I mean, if you just wanted—Why didn't you come to one of us?" He questioned, and she stiffened. There was the inevitable question. Why hadn't she? She knew that's what everyone would be wondering. Hell, she'd wondered herself. But the truth of it was quite simple.

"I never saw either of you like that." She said honestly, and turned to face him. Something flickered in his emerald eyes, but it was gone a moment later and she continued. "You were both like the brothers I never had, my best friends in the whole world. But best friends don't act the way you two have. I have never judged either of you for anything, never deserted you when you needed me. I never thought to expect any less from you in return, and that is where I went wrong. I've discovered, in my days of solitude, that I don't need you like I thought I did. I don't need two people who quite obviously couldn't give a damn about me when it comes down to it. So I don't think the question is why I _didn't_, but why in the hell I _would_."

"So that's it then." Harry said, and she sucked in a startled breath when his eyes darkened strangely. _No_, she thought distantly, backing away from him, _not again_. "You fucking whore yourself out, we don't approve, and you get pissy? What the _fuck_, Hermione? I was trying to apologize. It's stupid to turn down the only friend you'll have." He was moving towards her with that _look_, damn it, that same look he'd had on the Quidditch pitch that day, and she felt fear start to settle in her stomach. This wasn't right, it wasn't _him_…but it was.

"Harry…"

"Shut up." He spat, getting ever closer. She swore there were flecks of red in his eyes, but the growing threat of his nearing presence didn't let her concentrate on it. "So I'm not good enough for you? I'll show you good enough, you traitorous little bitch."

Then he was on her, his hands everywhere as his mouth covered hers. She screamed but it was muffled, and he was stronger than her by far. She fought him anyway, scratching and hitting with everything in her. What the fuck was wrong with him? She heard a shout outside the door, heard Lycelle yelling something, and prayed that the girl had followed them like she thought she had. Renewing her efforts to get him off of her, she sobbed in relief when their bodies were separated roughly. Looking up at a furious Ginny, she watched, numb, as the girl grabbed Harry by the throat and threw him into the far wall.

"Bad move, Potter." She heard Blaise comment wryly from her left, but her eyes were glued on Ginny, who appeared at Harry's side again almost instantly. Her eyes were sparking madly, and sharp, deadly fangs glinted in the weak sunlight streaming through the window. Enlightenment seemed to hit Hermione dead on, and she realized why the girl was so angry. It wasn't just because they were friends. Seeing what she just had must have brought back memories of her own close call not too long ago, and she'd snapped. Ginny wrapped a clawed hand in Harry's hair and yanked him up brutally, until his face was right underneath her sneering one.

"I do believe you were told you had one chance and one chance only." Ginny snarled, and Harry's eyes were wide and…_Harry_ again. She turned to her lovers. "Do it."

"As you wish." Draco responded gleefully, a real smile crossing his lips. Then he and Blaise threw their heads back and roared. Dropping to her knees and covering her ears, Hermione wondered briefly if she'd gone deaf.

Someone grabbed her arm and she looked over and into Lycelle's eyes as the walls of the Manor seemed to shiver and shimmer, glowing a dark blue and green before the colors faded with the noise. Letting her hands drop, she heard other throats echoing their cry from what seemed like every direction, and she realized that it was the different creatures that called this place 'home' and that named them 'master'. The only cries she could distinguish from the mass were the dragons', but the worst part was the growing, creeping cold that seemed to be converging on the room, growing thicker by the second. _Dementors_.

"It's your claim, Virginia." Blaise said, twirling Harry's wand in his fingers, though how he'd gotten it, she had no idea. "State the terms." Ginny nodded and dropped Harry carelessly, pushing against him when she did hard enough to ensure that his head bounced off the marble floor. She walked over to a platinum plaque on the wall that was like the many others Hermione had seen scattered around the Manor and at the carriage station, and sliced her palm open with a nail before slamming it onto the shiny surface.

"For his attack on a guest of the Manor, I sentence Harry James Potter to the Dimidium Hunt." She said, her voice spectral and just plain scary. "He thought to make prey of one I call friend, so now he shall see what it is to _be_ prey. By blood of one soulbound to your Lord, hear my words and heed them! Let the Hunt begin." The walls of the Manor rumbled in response, and when Ginny pulled her hand away, it was healed, the blood gone from her palm and the metal of the plaque. She took Harry in hand once more, and looked him in the eyes. "I cared for you once, but that was long ago. I care nothing for you know, and your death would not trouble me. It is time you learned your place." Then she threw him straight out the window without any more preamble, and he passed through it as if the glass wasn't even there. Silence covered all for a moment, and then Ron found his voice.

"What did you do? _What the fuck did you just do?_" He demanded, and Ginny turned those frighteningly fierce eyes on him.

"It's none of your bloody concern!" She snapped. "In case you've forgotten, you're not at Hogwarts, or the Burrow, or even in Britain at all anymore. You are at _Malfoy Manor_, in _France_, and it might as well be an entire other world in your case. You have no authority here, or anywhere else for that matter, and quite frankly, I've grown beyond sick of your shit, as has everyone else. Because of that, it's been decided that if you mess up again, you simply will not be allowed to leave your rooms for the rest of your stay. Don't test me again."

"_Don't test you?_ You just sent Harry to his death! I'm going after him!" Ron yelled. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Not very good in Latin, are you?" She taunted. "Dimidium means 'half'. It's not a hunt to the death, but he thinks it is, and that's the point. Don't get me wrong; it won't be pleasant. But our god says he is needed, so no, he won't die. Otherwise, he'd be dead already."

Ginny went to say something else when Padma laid a hand on her arm. Ginny calmed immediately, almost as if a part of the strange, eerie peace in Padma's eyes had spread to her as well. Wondering yet again if Padma had joined the three as their lover or as something else, Hermione got to her feet slowly, letting Lycelle help her up. There were too many questions and not enough answers, and Hermione felt as if her head would explode. She was also starting to worry about her budding friendship with Lycelle. What would the girl say when she heard what had happened between Hermione and Anton? She was Pansy's sister, after all.

Telling Lycelle she'd catch up with her later, Hermione set off in a random walk through the Manor, Mephite trailing her as always. She went up and down, back and forth, never paying attention to where her feet were leading her. She kept replaying Harry's behavior in her head, and kept coming up with the same conclusions. Either his scar was affecting him, or he was cracking up. She knew it was possible that it was simply the real Harry finally shining through, but that was almost too horrible to imagine. Raised voices caught her attention, and unable to help herself, she followed them until she was on a shadowy balcony above the room they were in.

"Why won't you at least fucking _talk_ to me?" Anton inquired, smashing a fist into the wall by Pansy's head. "We've been friends _eight years_, Pansy. _Eight bloody years_, and you go all cold on me _now_? Over something so goddamned _trivial_?"

"Fuck you, Anton." Pansy hissed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It wasn't fucking _trivial_, it was…" She grew silent again, and Hermione could see Anton's rigid form practically vibrating with tension.

"It was _what_?" He growled. "What the fuck upset you so much about this? What's the _real_ problem? 'Cause she's not it."

"It's nothing!" Pansy exclaimed, trying to slither away from him. But his other arm came up, caging her in, and her next words were filled with frustration, longing, and something Hermione couldn't name. "I should have known better! I should have known that night in Kinira meant nothing to you! Your one night stands _never_ do, remember?"

Anton looked quite a bit stunned. "_What!?_ Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Pansy? _You're_ the one who said it could never happen again! _You're_ the one who told me not to place any meaning in it! _You're _the one who said it was just a slip, and _you're_ the one that said it was one night and one night only!"

"Then I suppose I made a wise decision, didn't I?" She said, once more trying to get free. But Anton was having none of it.

"That's why you're pissed off? I didn't get mad at you about that guy from Madrid that you told us all about, or—"

"There was no guy in Madrid." Pansy said softly, and Anton stiffened even farther.

"What are you talking about? Of course there was, you—"

"There was no guy in Madrid." Pansy repeated, her struggling ceasing and her eyes closing tightly. "I made it up, alright? You'd gotten with that witch from Naryan-Mar and I…"

"There was no witch in Naryan-Mar." Anton tossed her words back at her, and her eyes opened wide. They stared at each other for a long time, and Hermione knew that she should leave, that she should have already been gone. But she couldn't. It was as if her feet were rooted to the floor.

"But—" Pansy finally started, only to have Anton lay a slender hand over her mouth.

"Shh." He said, his voice going low and satiny. "You want truth from me?" He asked, and she nodded slowly, her dark eyes searching his face. "There hasn't been anyone since our night in the Aegean Sea, not until the other night. I gave more to you then I knew at the time. It was in Russia that I discovered just how much, when that cute little witch petitioned me. I couldn't do it, but there was no way I was telling all of you that. You'd have wanted to know why, after all, and what would I have said? I did tell Draco and Blaise not too long afterwards, and Gregory and Vincent had been with me, but what would I have told Melody and Daphne? What would I have told _you_? You'd made it glaringly obvious that you didn't want my attentions."

"I—" Pansy tried, but his hand tightened.

"Uh uh." He chided, the ghost of a smile flickering across his shapely mouth. "Not until I'm done. This is what you wanted, correct? For me to finally crack and pour my soul out, laying it at your feet? Funnily enough, though, Pansy, I believe it's been there for a while. Do you remember that oath we took when we were first years? We'd said that we'd never find anyone to be as close to as Blaise and Dray were to each other, because as blind as they were for so long, we all already knew. We said that we'd never find anyone to be as close to as we already were with one another, so we vowed to never fall in love."

Pansy nodded, the first tear escaping her tight control and running down her cheek until it hit his hand.

"I must break that vow now." He said, and it was her turn to stiffen. "For it seems my heart is no longer my own. A vixen has sunken firm claws into it, and I do not think I ever really had a chance for escape. She's truly wonderful, this witch that I wish to make mine. She's smart, of course, one of the smartest people that I've ever known, and she's loyal to those who she deems has earned her loyalty. She's caring and cunning, cold and compassionate. She has a smile, when she chooses to bestow it, that makes me feel as if my world has ended and started over again, all at once. I've found that I can be quite content for hours just watching her hands write out a letter or an essay."

More tears had followed the first from those brandy eyes, and Hermione realized that for all her arrogance, Pansy honestly didn't believe that he was talking about her.

"Many think Slytherins heartless, but you and I both know that's a lie. When moved, we feel more deeply then others could begin to understand. And she has moved me irreplaceably. I think of her when I wake up every morning, I think of her during classes, during meals, and she is the last thing I see at night when I close my eyes. She haunts every step I take, and I've come to accept that I will never be free of her. And why would I wish to be? In my eyes, none outshine her. None could ever hope to. So you'll have to forgive me for this breach of faith, for this broken oath. It is the first promise I have ever failed you with, but I cannot avoid it nor ignore it. You have stolen my soul from me, Pansy, and I wish for it back. I would take you as my wife, if you would but have me. I love you."

Such simple words. Three simple, overused words that might have been considered a lie in the eyes of many when coming from one of his kind. But Hermione had come to realize that it was quite the opposite. If those words, those weakening, risky, soul-bearing words were spilled from the lips of a Slytherin, then every syllable was worth more than their fortunes to them, more even than their own lives. The effect of those heart-clenching words on Pansy was clearly evident, as his hand dropped and her shocked gasp filled the room. She swayed and would have fallen had he not steadied her, and she was as pale as a sheet.

"Pan—" Anton started, but Pansy drew herself up, a new, brilliant fire beginning to blaze within her eyes. It was she who covered his mouth with a hand that time, she who flipped him around and pinned him to the wall, she who had his eyes turning confused and wary.

"Shh." She mimicked him from moments ago. "You want truth from me?" He nodded, just as she had, a single lock of his hair falling across one sharp cheekbone. "There has been no one else for me, either, since Draco's ingenious idea of taking us all to the Greek archipelago. But I knew exactly what I was giving you that night. I also knew it was foolish. I'd heard you talk about your lovers before, how could I not have when we told each other everything? You were the only one to hear my secrets besides Draco and Blaise, and I know the reverse held true. So who was I to think that you would ever forsake the oath that we'd taken as I already had? I knew you did not wish for commitment."

Anton shook his head, the look in his eyes remarkably clear even from where Hermione was. It said, '_No,_ _Pansy. I just didn't wish for commitment with anyone but _you'.

"Melody and Daphne knew as well, of course, and held their tongues like I asked them to. Had they known this is what you wanted, they would have done something by now. And this _is_ what you want, correct? For me to finally crack and hand you my heart, prettily impaled on one of the shards? Funnily enough, though, Anton, I _know_ it's been yours for a while. It's been claimed by a wizard that's devious, of course, one of the most devious people that I've ever known. He's cruel and sadistic, utterly depraved in every way, and I wouldn't change a thing. The few that he considers worthy of his love are loved like no others, and those that awaken his ruthless side do not normally make it through the night."

Pansy stopped then, and tilted her head to the side, a rare, fond smile causing her beauty to morph into something very nearly devastating. Or so it seemed to Anton, as his eyes devoured her every move avidly.

"Did I ever thank you properly for what you did for me that day in Augsburg? Those werewolves would have killed me, you know, even though the moon was waning. I could see it, sense it. The one day since I was five that I went out without my wand, and I run into a pair of werewolves that were burying a body, of all things. I didn't think any of you would hear me scream, but you did. Never have I seen you so furious, before or since. I thought for a moment that Draco or Blaise had given you the Blood, because your eyes were truly frightening and your fury nearly tangible. Melody thought that you'd gone mad. I simply thought that you'd act that way for any of us, and I am truly grateful no matter the reason."

How can eyes be so expressive? _Perhaps they really are looking glasses into the soul_, Hermione pondered. _Or perhaps this is just what a Slytherin's eyes look like when all of their defensive masks and icy walls fall to dust beneath love's fingertips_.

"I cannot put into words what I felt when I saw you in that cove. And with _her_, of all people. I wanted nothing more than to kill her, to see her blood splatter over your skin and for you to know that it was my doing. And afterwards…It was my fault that it even happened, in a way. If I hadn't said those things to you in Greece…But I will never forgive _her_. She'd seen me looking at you, I _know_ she had, and yet she followed you, fucked you. She will pay for crossing me one day, but I care not to waste more words on her. I know you, Anton, and I trust you. If you say you truly meant the things you have spoken of today, then I will take you at your word. Many think you heartless, but _I_ know that's a lie. And I do not ask for forgiveness for my broken oath. _I revel in it_." Her hushed voice reverberated with pure conviction and feeling, and her hand fell away as she took a step back.

"Pansy—"

"I know. This is where we're supposed to declare our undying affection, yes? Make promises and pledges. But I tire of games and intrigue. I will be frank with you, as I have always been in the past. I would bind myself to you; I would take you as my lifemate, for I love you as well."

Anton did not answer her with words, simply let the dark joy in his eyes speak for itself before he pulled her back against him and claimed her lips with his own. Neither held anything back, and Hermione realized that what she had shared with Anton was nothing compared to _this_. They were very nearly eating each other alive, and clothes were already being ripped to careless pieces. Knowing that she had long outstayed her welcome (she shouldn't have been there in the first place), she left the balcony quietly, her chest aching strangely. Would she ever find something like that? That soul-consuming desire and hunger, that completeness? She didn't think so.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was later that night, right after they'd finished eating dinner, when the next early guest arrived. The decorations were almost complete, the frenzy of the last two days dying down a bit, and they were (but for Pansy and Anton) sitting in the front foyer again, watching Draco erect an ice sculpture of enormous proportions like one would a clay pot on a spinning wheel. Except there was no large chunk of ice for him to start out with. He was simply creating it out of nothing and shaping it with fingers, smoothing it with his palms. Ginny was helping him, using a fingertip to burn designs and runes into it, and every once in a while, Blaise would be petitioned to blast off an edge.

"Mother!" Draco called suddenly, and Narcissa looked up from the fairies she was giving directions to. "Your cousin is here."

"Already?" She asked, tucking a strand of loose, pale hair behind one perfectly formed ear.

"'Cissa!" A low male voice rang out, a moment before the visitor entered. When he did, Hermione's jaw hit the floor. At least she wasn't alone. The Weasleys, but for the twins, of course, all looked just as shocked as she must have, so it was a small consolation. Narcissa embraced him while Snape glared, and Hermione slowly shut her gaping mouth.

"It's good to see you, Sirius." Narcissa said warmly. Well, as warmly as she ever said anything, at least. "I trust that Tenebre Stella has met your approval? You look wonderful."

She was right. Sirius looked better than Hermione had ever seen him. His skin was darkened, apparently from the Italian sun, and his eyes looked much more alive than they had during their last meeting. His thick, wavy black hair shone in the witchlight, unlike Blaise's, who's seemed to eat it, but it was almost as long. His robes were a dark crimson silk, and only barely showed the toes of his dragonhide boots. He looked healthy and well fed, which was new, but considering where he'd apparently been staying, it wasn't that surprising. He filled out the robes nicely, muscles moving visibly underneath the smooth fabric, and she couldn't help smiling.

"Don't compliment me too much, 'Cissa, or Snapey here might have a heart attack." He teased, and Snape scowled darkly. "And yes, Tenebre Stella was as beautiful and hospitable as I remembered. It's certainly not a bad place to hide out at. Definitely not boring, at any rate." He said, and Hermione glimpsed something move out of the corner of her eye. Glancing over quickly, she saw George talking to a house elf in a mumbling whisper, before he handed it something and it disappeared.

"Boring? I would think not." Narcissa responded with a knowing smirk. Sirius kissed her cheek and spun around, his eyes roving over the room. He spotted Draco and Blaise and walked up to them, before bowing mockingly.

"My lords." He intoned sarcastically.

"Canine." They replied in unison with nasty sneers, and Sirius grinned roguishly before pulling them into tight embraces. Snape's glare turned very nearly murderous, but Sirius ignored him, ruffling the two Slytherins' hair. It was a pointless move, as the silky strands fell back into place instantly, but it did cause them to don agitated looks.

"Goddamnit, Sirius." Blaise cursed, batting his hand away. "That's what I liked about Azkaban. You couldn't put your filthy paws all over us."

"Well, you could always take up residence there yourself in order to get away from me." Sirius suggested. "By the way, I redecorated the villa. All of that monochrome black, silver, purple and green was getting repetitive. But don't worry about it; I took care of it for you." He said passively, and Hermione wondered if he was _trying_ to get one of them to flip out.

"If you changed even one minuscule little item in my home," Blaise said with narrowed eyes, "your furry half's going to wonder when, exactly, he'd been neutered." Sirius's eyes widened.

"Harsh." He murmured. "You're a harsh, evil little shit. I'm so proud."

"Whatever, Sirius." Blaise responded dryly, indigo eyes rolling.

"What do you care anyway?" Sirius questioned, his smirk back. "You have more homes than you can count."

"Correction, I have more _houses_ than I can count." Blaise pointed out. "I only have two _homes_, and I'm in one of them now. If one thing, Sirius, if _one fucking thing_ in Tenebre is gold or covered in shaggy, smelly dog fur, I swear by the gods that…" He trailed off, getting in a minor tug-of-war with Ginny over a strand of pinecones he was holding. She wrestled them from him after setting the one in his hand on fire, and he gave her a wounded look.

"Well, it's not like you're _working_!" She declared hotly. "You're just standing here chatting with this great oaf, and—" She didn't get to finish as Sirius swept her off her feet and spun around with her, laughing as she threatened to strangle him with the string of pinecones.

"My, my, hasn't the littlest Weasley grown up?" Sirius commented as he set her back on her feet, and she slapped him on the arm before glaring at her boyfriends.

"Thanks so much for all of your assistance." She said sarcastically.

"Anytime." Her boyfriends replied flippantly, and it seemed a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Oh, have I mentioned that I'm going out for a bit tomorrow?" She asked and their grins disappeared immediately. "Yule shopping, and all. Padma and Pansy are coming with me."

"Really."

"Yes. And it's for you two and I don't want to hear it." She said when they started to say more.

"I was _going_ to say," Draco started after a moment, "that it can be arranged. You're not a prisoner here, and we have no intention of making you feel that way. Certain precautions will have to be taken, of course, and I do have one stipulation."

"What's that?" Ginny asked, looking slightly baffled. She hadn't, apparently, thought it was going to be that easy. Ah, well. Neither had anyone else.

"The Ezutîël go with you." Blaise answered for him simply, and Ginny stared at them as if they'd lost their minds.

"So…that's it? We can just…go?" She questioned disbelievingly.

"Well, of course not." Draco replied. "We'll have you weighed down with so many protection amulets that you'll rattle when you walk." Now _that_ sounded more like them. Ginny sighed exasperatedly, but she couldn't stop a small smile.

"I knew it would be _something_." She said thoughtfully. "Although it's better than I expected, to tell the truth. I—"

"_ARGH!!_" A bellow cut her off, and they all spun to see Ron standing beside a house elf that looked suspiciously like the one George had been talking to.

It was holding a tray of sweetmeats and chocolate, and she could swear it was laughing internally as it watched Ron, who was, oddly, sprouting scales. Within half a minute, they'd covered his entire body, and when he opened his mouth to yell again, nothing came from his forked tongue but hisses. He started panicking after he ran his hands over his body, his twisted, webbed fingers scratching over the scales, which were…turning hot pink? Yes, they were definitely becoming pinker by the second. Ron spun in circles, high-pitched, sibilant screams pouring from his rough lips, and Draco, Blaise and the twins were the first to lose hold of their laughter.

"H-He hates sn-snakes so much," Fred gasped while Ron became more and more frantic, "that we th-thought we'd see how h-he liked _being_ one."

"We told you Sneperskin strips would work." Draco choked out as Ron's cries reached a new level of hysteria. His horrified eyes nearly bugging out of his head, he was still running in circles and patting himself wildly, brushing off his parents' attempts to help him. Bill tried to catch him as he went by and Ron yelped and fled. He didn't make it fifteen feet before he slammed face-first into one of the black marble pillars and hit the floor like a sack of stones. They stared.

And then—"Did you get that?" George asked, looking at Blaise and Draco and trying to get his laughter to some sort of manageable level, while Hermione didn't even try to fight her own. "Please say you got that!"

"Oui." Blaise agreed, and it took him three tries to perform a simple summoning spell through his snickers. When he did manage, a crystal like the ones Hermione had seen at the Ministry flew into his hand. "We can watch that over and over and over…"

"I bet we could sell copies after we're done." Draco suggested, causing the other three to laugh even harder. "We can call it Ron's Requiem. Fuck, I'd be willing to give them away for free at this point."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny asked between hysterical giggles, holding onto Padma, who still looked utterly calm. But Hermione could see the amusement flickering deep within her eyes, and wondered how they could be so peaceful, yet so dark. Padma was an enigma, and one that Hermione was determined to figure out. "I would have helped."

"Because it's _for_ you, Rose." Fred responded. "Did you think we'd just let all of that shit slide? Ron's started a war now, and we plan to see it to the finish. He shouldn't have fucked with you, but he did, and now he's got all four of us more than a bit ticked off. And funnily enough, we've learned that we work quite well together."

"Mm-hmm." George agreed, and their laughter finally started to cease, although none could look at the heap of pink scales without starting all over again. "Fred and I came up with the snake idea, we all brewed it and decided to make him pink, and they," he shot Draco and Blaise a warm, appraising look, "stirred in the timing spell. Why didn't you tell us that they're practically Masters already?"

"Don't change the subject." Ginny protested, calming down rapidly, as if Padma was somehow transferring her seemingly constant sense of steadiness to her once more. Again, the damnable questions reappeared. _What is Padma's role here? Another lover? A friend? A strange sort of colleague? What has allowed her to do the impossible? What could possibly have earned her such friendship and trust from them in mere days?_ Jealousy flowed through her again and she gritted her teeth. As if it wasn't bad enough that Padma had been offered the Head Girl position before her and turned it down, but now she was where Hermione most desired to be. "What did Dray mean by 'after we're done'?" Ginny inquired, oblivious to Hermione's train of thought.

"Nothing." George said hastily, looking sideways at their mother kneeling on the ground beside Ron, who was still knocked out cold.

He was saved from further interrogating by Pansy and Anton's, quite belated, arrival. Both had either gotten new clothes or had somehow fixed the others, but Hermione didn't think so. There hadn't been more than three scraps of fabric larger then her hand by the time she'd left. Her cheeks heating as she thought of all that she'd seen and heard, she made sure not to meet theirs, or anyone else's, eyes. Neither was disheveled, as they'd obviously made a point to freshen up, but the dark bite marks just visible underneath their collars said more than words or rumpled robes, as did the fact that they were both very nearly radiant with afterglow, which, for wizards, can quite literally be a side effect of coupling.

"What took you so long, hmm?" Blaise asked, throwing Pansy's words from breakfast the other morning back at her with a mocking sneer. She didn't even bother glaring, a contented smile her only answer. Then Ginny shrieked.

"_By the gods!_ Is that what I think it is!?" She questioned ecstatically, and Padma's eyes started sparkling happily. Both girls ran over to Pansy, who was beaming, and surrounded her, and giggling madly over something while Draco and Blaise drug Anton to the corner. "It _is_, isn't it?"

"Yes." Pansy replied, her smile turning beatific and delighted. Padma shifted slightly and Hermione saw what they were remarking so excitedly about. An engagement ring glittered on Pansy's finger, the huge diamond and the white gold band flashing in the luminescence from the balls of witchlight that spun right below the eternally moving battle scene that was painted on the ceiling.

"Oooooh, I knew it was!" Ginny exclaimed, and then drew her friend into a jubilant hug. "About time, too. We were close to locking you in the dungeons together naked. Bloody ridiculous how long it took you."

"Oh, be quiet, you." Pansy laughed, and her eyes fell on something to her right. "What on earth—is _that_ your _brother_?" At Ginny's nod, her smile grew even more. "Fabulous. Those two are absolutely _horrid_ when it comes to this stuff. He might not survive." She said it as if she couldn't wait to see the end result.

"Hmm, yes, they are, aren't they?" Ginny agreed. "But it's not just them. They've teamed up with the twins for this one, apparently." Pansy paled.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no." She moaned. "Never mind. I doubt _any_ of us will survive."

"Now, of course you will." Draco commented from behind her, Blaise and a flustered looking Anton beside him. Hermione was almost positive that she didn't want to know what it was that _they'd_ been whispering into Anton's ear. Probably something along the lines of '_Ten_ _Different Ways to Practically Kill Your Lover with Bloody Ecstasy_', or something as equally deranged and psychotic. Sick and twisted. Intriguing and—

"We'd never make you miss your own wedding." Blaise continued, jabbing Anton in the ribs and grinning knavishly.

"Speaking of which," Silana's voice rang out, causing them all to turn. She was standing beside Narcissa, Snape, Sirius, Molly and Arthur, who all wore serious expressions, and over Ron, who was still unconscious. "When will we get a wedding out of you three, hmm? Or is it four, now?"

"Sweet Merlin, Mother, are you _serious_?" Blaise asked, and the woman put a hand on her hip.

"Of course I am! We want grandbabies sometime before we die!" She said, and Blaise stared for a moment longer before turning to Ginny and Padma. Whether he was addressing one or both of them, Hermione didn't know, and it frustrated her endlessly.

"Very sorry about her." He said in a monotone voice. "Woman isn't right in the head. Let's go flying." Instead of both nodding, or only one nodding, or _any_ sort of clue that would help Hermione in the least bit, they simply walked off with him, grabbing Draco and the twins on the way out. Blaise threw a last, withering look at his mother, who smirked at him in a way that promised the conversation was anything but over.

"Oi, Hermione!" She heard Sirius call from her left, and she faced him, returning the hug he gave her.

"Hello, Sirius." She said, a real smile curving her lips for the first time in what felt like forever. He just looked so much healthier and happier then he had when she'd last seen him. The change was almost miraculous, and as she stared at his once-again handsome face, she fancied she could finally see in him what he must have looked like at her age.

"So, Silana tells me you and Ron have been fighting. She also told me what else happened." He said, and she gave him a startled look. "Want some advice?"

"Umm, sure, I guess." Hermione agreed, and he smiled.

"First things first, don't feel bad about it. Worse things have happened and will happen again. Secondly, you won't have to worry about the school knowing unless Ron says something. The Slytherins, as a general rule, won't speak a word of it unless Anton does, and he seems a bit too preoccupied to give it much thought at the moment. So, what you need to do is corner Ron."

"Corner Ron?" She parroted, confused.

"Yep." Sirius replied, slipping a rectangular silver case out of his pocket and withdrawing a small, black cigar. He lit it with the tip of his wand and a house elf appeared with a crystal ashtray, holding it out in one hand dutifully.

"Why would I want to do that?" She asked as sweet, aromatic smoke curled out of his nostrils. He gave her a considering look.

"To threaten him within an inch of his life, of course. You're not one of the smartest girls in your school for nothing. You know more hexes then he does, I'd bet my vault on it."

"Well, I suppose I do." She said, turning the idea over in her mind. When she looked back up, Sirius was gazing around as if he'd just remembered something. "What is it?" She asked, and his eyes snapped back to her.

"Nothing, it's just…I could have sworn she'd said he'd be here…" He mumbled.

"What?" Butterflies settled in her stomach. _Not good_, she thought quickly, _so not good. Why do I have to be the one to deal with this?_

"Where's Harry?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Well, it's official. I'm a review whore. (sighs) So…review, please! I even put out this chapter two days early…again!


	21. Yuletide Cheer

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to reviewers: tkmoore**, Kelly, my dear, dear Kelly, what can I say? you already know that I adore and worship you. what else is there? lol** Catalina Royce**, you and Kelly are just the absolute best of the best! I'm already addicted to your reviews almost as much as I am to caffeine, and that means a lot coming from me, lol!** Jan**, (kisses your feet) love you as always!** jenn**, it's amazing how alike we think when it comes to Hermione, lol!and thanks for the badass review! **quimbytimmons**, omg, you have no idea how happy your review made me! thank you! **el**** chikita joules**, thank you so much! I love your reviews! **candace1989**, thanks a million for the help with the French! **TarynMalfoy88**, (gives you a big kiss) je t'adore! **Haunted-Shadows**, you owe me! you'll see why towards the end of this chappie, lol! **venka**, hey, it's all good! I'm just happy you've been enjoying it! thanks! **childofoceans**, and I officially love you too! **me**, I love your reviews. I love you. (kisses!) **SkotosEnigma**, if you like Padma, you'll love the end of this chap! and please, please, please do some fanart! it would be much appreciated! **Chaney**, it a good thing you gave your permission. (grins evilly) **sillysun**, THANK YOU!! **Fallen**, the lust has gone nowhere, I promise! **musiclover86**, thanks! and I dunno, it just pops up in my brain and won't leave! **short**** arse**, it _was_ about time wasn't it? lol **rani singla**, thank you! **Aubryawna**, some of your Q's get answered in this chappie, lol. **angelfire33**, loveyouloveyouloveyou! **madcow**, yes I have, and thanks! **a.sam**, they might, lol! **Tytianne**, thank you!! **Alie**, thanks! **Shelby**, behold parvati! lol **babykelyse**, well, I guess a fry wasn't too much. at least you didn't starve, lol! **little-munchkin-poo**, THANKS! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, as always, thanks for the great review! **Crimson**, wow! thanks! **dracofan**, well, this might make you feel a bit better. :) **katie**, thanks so much! and you'll see! **Nicki**, thanks! **Danni is Divine, James is Mine**, thanks, and the sappiness was sort of necessary! :) **Angie**, thank you! **kia**, hope this chapter calms your worries, lol. **entrancer**, thanks for the site info! **Tom4ever**, continuing, continuing! lol **Akasha**, what does 'BO' mean? lol, I'm quite dumb sometimes. **aoi-yuki-yume**, sorry the update took so long! (smiles sheepishly) **dancingirl**, thanks! **dido**, that's why I love fiction! you can do anything you want! **Psi**, the 'greatness', as you call it, continues! lol **xxbabysparklesxx**, thanks! **gin**** rose raposo1**, your wish is granted! lol

**Author's Note:** My apologies! I know this chapter was like two days late, but I had to go to a funeral in Waco, and it couldn't be helped. Forgive me, darling readers! (holds out arms in supplication and sniffs pathetically) I would never abandon you on purpose!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lycelle hated parties. She had ever since she was little, and the Yule Balls at Draco and Blaise's estates every year were not an exception. She'd never felt that she fit in at them, or really anywhere at all, and she sincerely wished that they would just let her stay in her room all night. Knowing that was impossible, she didn't argue when the house elf came in to do her hair and slip a pastel green gown over her head. She didn't fight it when it applied the cosmetic spells that it had been given leave to perform, or when it dutifully slipped her feet into the strappy sandals waiting for her. Glancing in the mirror, she sighed audibly.

"Why so down, sweetheart?" The mirror questioned in a feminine soprano. "You look fabulous."

"Thank you." She replied, and turned away.

She supposed she looked passable. Her dark brown hair, a twin of Pansy's, hung to the middle of her back in loose waves, and the black kohl lining her eyes made the green in the hazel orbs stand out. But she was nothing special, definitely not a classic beauty like her sister, and she had grown to hate her own reflection. There was a knock at her door and she called for whoever it was to enter. Hermione walked in, Mephite at her heels as always, and she was already dressed for the Ball as well. Straightened hair the color of meranti hung just a little past her shoulders, her eyelids had been dusted a light mauve, and her cyan-shaded gown shimmered as she walked.

Gods, even the mudblood looked better then she did.

"Good evening, Hermione." She greeted the other girl, and Hermione smiled.

"Are you ready? You look wonderful to me."

"Thanks, and yes, I believe so. Is everyone else in the foyer already?" Lycelle asked as they walked out of her room. Those who'd been staying at the Manor would be announced to the guests (who had arrived an hour ago) last, and they were all meeting up with each other in the foyer beforehand.

"I think so. And tell me honestly…What should I be expecting?" Hermione questioned, and Lycelle knew that she'd been dying to ask all day.

"Anything, mostly." She replied. "It should all go quite normally until after the fireworks at midnight. Then the liquor and the Nirvana are brought out, and there's no telling what might happen."

"The Nirvana?" Hermione asked with a small frown. "What on earth is that?" Lycelle laughed.

"The pureblood drug of choice, I suppose you could say. Only seven people alive today can brew it, and you've been staying with four of them. It…it is freedom, joy, abandonment of all reservations and restraint. The wizarding aristocrats only let their hair down, per say, once a year. But when they do, they go all out. Most will only remember tonight as a swirl of colors, music, magic and laughter. This is their escape from their titles and positions, their responsibility and obligations. They feel safe here, and each new person admitted takes the same oath of secrecy that you did earlier."

"Oh." Hermione said faintly.

"The Nirvana can also go bad, of course, as nothing is completely perfect. But it's rare for that to happen, especially with almost every single person consuming it. Narcissa, Silana and Severus won't partake because of the chance that someone will react negatively, and anyone under sixteen is sent to their rooms, including myself."

"Who is it that can brew this…stuff?" Hermione inquired, and Lycelle shot her a look.

"Severus, Draco, Blaise and, now, Virginia. Pansy said that they started it the second day here." She said, and noticed Hermione stiffen. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just—Well, do you know what…happened?" The other girl asked hesitantly.

Of course she knew what had happened. It was one of the reasons that she was even _at_ the Manor. She'd been told before the holidays that she might be needed, and then the day before yesterday, a Malfoy eagle owl had swooped into Parkinson Hall right before dinner. It had been from Blaise, and he'd given her a short overview on what had been going on, then requested that she come the next day and do _something_ about Hermione. He hadn't specified what, and the tone of the letter had suggested that he really didn't give a shit, so she had thought on it. How to get the nosy Gryffindor girl to quit causing trouble?

Then she'd walked in yesterday and seen the loneliness in the girl's eyes. Her decision being made instantly, she'd gone to help without any intention of actually befriending the girl. But damned if she wasn't starting to _like_ her. The pureblood in her rebelled at the thought, while her heart, which she'd been told was much too trusting, reached out to the other girl. Four years separated them, rival Houses separated them, but they seemed to actually have quite a bit in common. Both loved to read, both loved their classes, and both loved knowledge above all else. In less than a day, Lycelle found herself starting to trust the other girl, and her sister's voice echoed in her head.

'_Never put faith in a mudblood, Lycelle, for they are weak-willed and easily corrupted. Our lives are too dark and too intense on too many different levels. Levels that they cannot even begin to comprehend. It will only bring you grief.' _

How many times had Pansy told her that? Her sister had never lied to her, but she wanted to make a decision on her own for once. She was almost fourteen and about to finish her third year at Hogwarts. Surely she was old enough to decide whether or not be friends with someone, even if it was a Gryffindor. After all, where would they be if Draco and Blaise hadn't given Virginia a chance? Okay, well, she knew _that_ was a bit different, but still. Hermione seemed like a perfectly nice girl, even if she did have vitiated blood and a few character flaws that were likely to get her maimed or killed while around Lycelle's Housemates.

"Yes, I heard about it." Lycelle responded, taking in Hermione's pale face and worried brown eyes. "Look, I love my sister, alright? Shit, she's almost like half of a mother to me. But I'm not a little miniature Pansy, no matter what you may believe. I think what happened with Anton was fucked up because of the timing and because you chose him, but I don't overly blame or condemn you for it, alright?"

"That's the same thing Ginny said." Hermione whispered softly. "She told me that she couldn't without being a hypocrite, because she still would have lain with Blaise and Draco even if they hadn't wanted a relationship with her. Then she'd mumbled something like, '_If you'd only been a Slytherin, or even just a pureblood_', but I'm not sure what she meant."

"She meant that if you were a Slytherin, Pansy might still have been upset for obvious reasons, but no one else would have been, not even her friends, and she wouldn't have been nearly so mad. Casual sex in our House is nothing remotely new, after all, and—" Hermione cut her off.

"Then why do they all look at me like…like they _do_?" She asked, just a hint of something desperate in her voice. Lycelle stopped, gave her a long, searching look, and pulled her into one of the many shadowy alcoves that were built into the walls all over the Manor.

"Alright, listen to me, Hermione." She started seriously. "I like you, okay? But I'm…different then the others. They look at you like that because you're _not_ a Slytherin. You're not even pure. If you were, they wouldn't have lost the little bit of respect that they had for you. They see most mud—muggleborns who, no offense, whore for them, as nothing more than that. Whores. They do not like your kind, and they _never_ will. The only reason I'm more open to it is because I grew up with my grandmother, and she's not as…_strict_ about such things. So, yes, our House is all for casual sex, and no one is ostracized for it like they are in the other Houses." She paused; making sure that the other girl understood what she was saying before continuing.

"No one but muggleborns. They see you as lesser than them, and they have plenty of justifiable reasons. The blood running through our veins is ancient, timeless, powerful, while the blood of muggles is weak and magicless. Mixing the two decreases the essence of it, even I agree with that. I'm not _necessarily_ saying that it makes you weaker magically, but it _does_ dilute the…quality. And my Housemates, well, you know how strong most of them are, how dark. And the darker they become, the closer they intertwine themselves with the void, the more the old magick in their blood awakens. That awakening gives them new perception, and they can see, they can _smell_, the tain—the mixed blood in a muggleborn's veins. You smell weak to them, you smell like prey, you smell like something lower on the evolutionary chain."

"That's—" Hermione started, but Lycelle waved her silent. The girl needed to hear this, or she was going to end up dead.

"Horrible? Wrong? Unfair? Get used to it if you want to make a life for yourself in our world. The purebloods rule, light and dark alike, and while many act as if they don't care about the mixed bloodlines in the public eye, they do. Slytherins are simply open about it. We are also possessive and protective of those we love, for we love few, and it has been bred into us for millennia as a means for survival. For someone like Pansy, who grows stronger and darker each day, the instinct to simply lash out and make you bleed grows as well, because her waking blood screams that you are inferior, tainted. For someone like Blaise, however, it takes every ounce of self-control not to rip your throat out and feed your remains to his cats."

"_Feed_ my—" Hermione started incredulously, but Lycelle stopped her yet again.

"Don't dwell on the technicalities, for you have far bigger problems then what happens to your shell after its death. Do you realize, _truly realize_, how very many times you've come within an inch of dying? Because I don't think you do, or you never would have set foot in this place. My Housemates are not people you want to fuck with, alright? None would lose sleep over killing you, nor even so much as bat an eye. Pansy would smile as your blood ran, and Blaise would laugh as you sucked in your last breath. And Virginia is not the safe haven that you've built her up to be in your mind. Because when it comes down to it, she will side with them even if it means doing nothing as they slaughter you."

Hermione paled, but Lycelle didn't soften her words. Blaise wanted her to handle the situation, and she didn't plan on letting him down. It was the first thing that they'd ever really asked of her, and she knew the reason that no one had before. Because they all knew that her blood was the only thing that had gotten her into Slytherin, just like Virginia's had been the only reason the Hat had agreed to put her in Gryffindor, and it had still been seriously reluctant in both cases. She was cunning enough, she supposed, and could be sly when she chose, but she lacked their ambition and their easy, natural ability to close off their hearts and emotions with a mere thought.

She'd always been a step aside and behind them, always been too open and caring. She wasn't nearly as powerful as most of her Housemates her age, because she simply didn't feel the void inside her as strongly as they seemed to. All purebloods felt either a pull to darkness or to light, a pull that started stirring stronger and stronger when they reached sixteen or seventeen. And she _did_ feel it, but it was faint, distant, much more so then it should have been for a girl of almost fourteen with Parkinson blood in her veins. But she _was_ Slytherin enough to continue ruthlessly, even if deep inside, she knew that she did it because she wanted them to be wrong about Hermione.

"I know she is your friend, and I know that this will sound cruel, but she is also a dark, pureblooded witch fully coming into her power, and you're a muggleborn. A light witch, or even a dark witch that's less attached to the void, such as myself, has no real problem being around you. But Virginia is not either of those things, and it would be bad enough if she were simply a powerful black witch. But she's not just that, either. She's an Elemental shapeshifter who has taken the Blood of the Ancients, and in doing so, mixed her own with that of a Malfoy and a Zabini. How she manages to be around you as much as she is without having so much as drawn your blood, I have no idea."

"Maybe it's because she isn't a complete _animal_." Hermione offered indignantly, and Lauren sighed.

"That's exactly what you have to stop doing. You stand there and say 'animal' as if it were filthy and disgusting, while even _I_ can see the obscured desire in your eyes. Just like I see it _every_ time your eyes land on Draco, and, to a slighter degree, Anton and Blaise. You've convinced yourself that the second was only a mild infatuation, and you fear the latter too much to keep your eyes on him for too long. What I find stupid of you is that you seem to think that Draco's just going to continue ignoring it. Blaise has already warned you off, as has Virginia, but our silver prince isn't exactly known for his patience either. You fuck up again, and you're going to find yourself being torn apart from four different directions, possibly five at this point, although Padma seems more…laid back then that."

"So she _is_ with them? I was won—"

"Are you even _listening_?" Lycelle asked, her own patience running thin. This girl was supposed to be one of the brightest witches in their school! "This is not about their fucking sex life! I have no idea if she is or not, and it's not any of my bloody business what they do in the first place, nor is it yours. This is about keeping you _alive_. I'm beginning to wonder if you do it on purpose, since that's the only way for you to draw their attention. I like you, Hermione, but I just don't understand this. Any person with half the intelligence of a flobberworm would have learned by now to shut their mouth, avoid eye contact, and stay as far away as conceivably possible from all of them. But you keep coming back. Why?"

"We need their help, Ginny's my friend, and—"

"'_We_'? Who's 'we'? Ron's not talking to you and Harry's being hunted. And didn't you need help in the first place _for_ Harry? Yet you weren't even on speaking terms with him _before_ yesterday. You could have gone back to your parents' house for Yule, but yet you're here, and I'm guessing that you knew Virginia would feel sorry for you and bring you along. I don't know what you're thinking, or if you're even thinking at all, but the best thing you could do when we get back to school is never talk to them again. However, if you're determined to stick around, then you'd better wizen up a bit. Or do you wish for one of them to snap and shower you with black salt? There will be no escape then."

"O-Of course n-not." Hermione replied, her voice wavering a bit at the thought.

"Then, for the love of all that's holy, stay away from Blaise, Draco and Anton. My sister will not tolerate the least bit of shit from you now that she has that ring on her finger, and if you keep it up, Virginia will catch you gazing greedily at her lovers again one day, and it will not be pretty. I know that you fear death from Blaise and Pansy, and in the back of your mind, where your instincts lay dormant, you fear it from Draco as well since your subconscious doesn't hold the same illusions that you do when you look at him. But if you drive her to it, Virginia will not hesitate to drain you dry and send you straight to Hades. It would be wise not to give her a reason for such an action."

"I won't." Hermione said in a small voice. "We're going to be late." She added randomly, while Lycelle looked at her, studied her wounded eyes, and shook her head. Hopefully, the girl had heard her words and would heed them. If not, then their budding friendship wasn't going to last very long. Not very long at all.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They continued walking in brooding silence until Hermione broke it.

"So they'll never accept me, never like me? Just as a friend." She clarified quickly when she saw the expression crossing Lycelle's face.

"No."

"Is there even any chance, however small, that I could gain that 'little bit of respect' back?" Gods, she hoped so.

"N—Hmm. I really don't know. I suppose you could, but it would probably involve you doing something very stupid and more than likely fatal."

"Oui." A voice intoned from behind them, causing them to spin. "So, by all means, go ahead and do it. Your death will make this night all the grander." Mira suggested with a smirk, Gregory and Vincent at her side.

The blond girl was wearing a gray gown that was trimmed in white fur, and looked as sharp and fabulous as she typically did. She must have picked out her escorts' robes, because the dark gray fabric was cut to show off the bulging muscles of their chests and arms rather than conceal them. They were almost exactly the same height and size, and both had gold-streaked, dark brown hair that fell to their chins. It was styled instead of shaggy for once, and Hermione realized that they must really like Mira, because they wouldn't even let Draco and Blaise, who they adored and very nearly idolized, anywhere near their hair, as she had observed on occasion.

But one could still only catch glimpses through their short, yet concealing, locks, could only catch glimpses of cheekbones that had narrowed sharply, of lips that had filled out and darkened, of eyes like melted chocolate. They had definitely turned out nicely. They'd resembled their fathers during their early youth, but their mothers' bloodlines had done them good as they'd grown older. They still had their sires' builds, but it had mixed with their mothers' beauty and turned them into quite an appealing eyeful when you could actually see enough of them to realize how attractive they had become. She knew what their parents looked like from pictures, and had drawn her own conclusions.

"What did I do to you?" Hermione questioned, but Mira ignored her and turned her eyes to Lycelle.

"Blaise wished to speak with you, but I doubt there's time for it now. Find him tomorrow after you rise, bien? And _you_," she said, her gaze going back to Hermione and turning venomous, "had better not cause my cousin and his lovers any trouble tonight. If anyone has earned the right to relax, it's them. Don't fuck it up." Then she was gone, sweeping down the hall with Gregory and Vincent following her and shooting their own threatening glares at Hermione as they passed. ((okay?))

"Well." Lycelle said after a moment. "She's another one that you shouldn't cross. Very protective of Blaise and Draco, she is. She nearly killed an Irish courtesan who was so disappointed that the two wanted nothing more to do with her after one night that she told an entire bar full of muggles that they'd raped her. Mira was only fifteen, but she laid waste to the entire place before her mother and Silana had been able to subdue her. Now _that_ had been a nasty mess to clean up."

"Wonderful." Hermione muttered as they started down the hallway again. "Is there _anyone_ here who doesn't hate me?"

"Oh, don't be so down. Is it really so bad that you'll probably live a long, peaceful life with some normal, loving man? Oh, look, here we are." Lycelle said as they entered the main foyer from a side passage.

Everyone was already there but for Ginny, Blaise, Draco, Padma and the twins, and they made quite a sight. The Weasley men that were present, Arthur, Bill and Charlie (Ron refused to come), were all dressed in robes of gold satin that had been embroidered with red filigree, Yule gifts from Narcissa and Silana, while Molly wore a gown of the same material and coloring. Pansy and Anton stood apart from the others, their heads lowered as they whispered between themselves, and the light shimmered over the deep blue Egyptian cotton that molded to their lithe frames. Melody and Daphne were a few feet away and to the left, their gowns done in a violet that made their auburn hair shine.

Severus, who was still all in black even for the ball, stood beside Narcissa, Silana and Armynel, who looked almost too beautiful to be real in flowing gowns of silver silk, their hair braided and coiled atop their heads like crowns. Hermione smiled as Lycelle whispered that if any of their people ever donned true crowns again, Narcissa and Silana were sure to be among them. But now was not the time to think of such things, as Sirius (in the Polyjuiced body of a young Mediterranean boy) walked up to them, his robes as black as his name and his now-brown eyes still slightly angry. Lycelle had stepped in the night before and explained what had happened with Harry, and his worry had turned to rage.

Rage at Harry, rage at Voldemort, whom he claimed was behind his godson's rash actions, and rage at himself for not being there to stop it. Although how he thought he would have accomplished such a thing, she had no idea. But he looked a whole lot calmer now, and she was glad to see it. He kissed Lycelle's cheek as propriety demanded, but Hermione he wrapped up in a hug. He seemed to see the conflict behind her eyes, and he smoothed her hair down, telling her not to worry, that everything would work out. Then two banshees entered the room and everyone grew silent, following them at their beckoning gestures.

"Where are they taking us?" She whispered, and Lycelle leaned over to whisper next to her ear.

"The Grand Ballroom. It's spelled so that only the banshees can enter the wards around it. As they are impossible to coerce or corrupt, it ensures the guests' safety above all else."

"I thought the Manor was _already_ as safe as a place could be." Hermione hissed under her breath.

"It is. It's just an extra precaution, is all. Too many important people will be gathered in one place at one time not to still be paranoid even with _this_ house's defenses. Don't worry about it. It makes them all feel more secure." Lycelle responded as they filed one by one into a bright, torch-lit hallway. It wasn't that long of a walk before they came to a huge set of ebony doors, which swung open to reveal nothing but blackness. They could hear the guests inside though, laughing and chatting, their voices nearly lost due to the sweet, haunting music that poured out of the open doorway. The music died off in another few seconds, and a deep, heraldic voice rang out through the new wave of silence.

"Lady Narcissa Malfoy and Lord Severus Snape!" It called out, and the two mentioned disappeared through the curtain of misty shadows when the banshees placed their palms upon the wall, while enthusiastic applause met their entrance.

"Lady Silana Zabini and Lady Armynel Zabini!" Again, the two mentioned disappeared, more applause echoed out into the hall, and so it continued.

"Honored guests, Madame Molly Weasley and Monsieur Arthur Weasley!" Silence met _that_ announcement for several seconds, before the clapping began anew, although it was somewhat hesitant. She could just imagine the surprise those inside were feeling.

"Their oldest sons, Monsieur Bill Weasley and Monsieur Charlie Weasley!" The same unsure-but-polite clapping greeted them as well.

"Lord Anton McGregor and his betrothed, Lady Pansy Parkinson!" Silence again, and then the people inside exploded, their cheers nearly deafening them. Apparently, the engagement between them was approved of, to say the least.

"Lady Melody Arcdine and Lady Daphne Wilbrige!" The applause continued, but at a more sedate level.

"Lady Mira Zabini, Lord Gregory Goyle and Lord Vincent Crabbe!" They vanished as well, and Hermione felt her stomach tightening. They were next. She was about to have to walk into that room and act as if she belonged there, which she knew she didn't. And Sirius, since he was an escaped convict on the run and in another person's body, couldn't even use his name to shield her from their sure-to-be curious and hostile stares.

"Lady Lycelle Parkinson, Mademoiselle Hermione Granger and Monsieur Arturo Dominick!" Inhaling deeply, Hermione walked with them through the barrier, and when they came out on the other side, she was sure that she was dreaming.

Because it appeared that they'd been relocated to the moon, but she knew that it couldn't be, since Lycelle hadn't mentioned _leaving_ the Manor, that and the fact that it was snowing. Regardless, she was stunned. The view was breathtaking. A trillion stars glittered overhead and all around, and Earth loomed brightly to the right of them, a vibrant mix of greens, blues and browns. White marble stretched across a huge expanse of ground, blending into the sandy soil at its perimeters perfectly. Candles and balls of witchlight were spread around, lighting up the six long tables that sat fifty people apiece and had empty dishes awaiting the first course.

Another, shorter table sat lengthwise at the head of the others, and that was where she saw the others who'd come in right before her taking their seats. A few others were also sitting there, and when Mira took her seat, only six were left, directly in the center. People were spread out all over the place, and she felt faint as she recognized many of the leading political figures in the wizarding world sipping their wine, oblivious to her scrutiny as they themselves scrutinized her. A live band was set up not too far away from the tables, and the marble changed color in the center of the gathering, becoming a black as dark as the night sky that they were surrounded by.

It was obviously the dance floor, and many of the couples were already on it, frozen in place as the herald had drawn their attention. Their eyes bored into her and she flinched away, wanting to turn the other way and run. But Sirius took her arm and led her towards the end of the far right table, while Lycelle gave her an apologetic look before walking to the head of the one opposite theirs and placing herself beside a cold-looking woman with reddish-brown hair and a blond man who barely even looked at her. Hermione and Sirius had only just sat down when the herald's voice rang out again, and it startled her already frazzled nerves so badly that she nearly knocked her wine glass over.

"Lady Padma Patil, Monsieur Fred Weasley and Monsieur George Weasley!"

Invisible doors suddenly became visible, and they entered in a swirl of silk and satin, looking radiant. Fred and George were wearing robes of a deep, fathomless blue that matched their changed eyes, and their chin-length red hair framed their handsome faces. Padma stood between them, her arms linked with theirs and a small, soft smile on her rosy lips. Her gown was of a lighter blue, the color of a summer sky, and her green-speckled eyes looked as if they'd been dipped in a pool of contentment. Her thick, dark hair hung to her waist in shiny waves, except for in the front on either side, where the locks were pulled back and braided in elaborate coils.

Then the herald cried out again.

"Lord Draco Malfoy, Lord Blaise Zabini and Lady Virginia Weasley!"

Hermione just stopped herself from spitting wine all over the table.

"_What? _Did he say _Lady_?" She hissed at Sirius, but he looked just as confused as she felt. In fact, just about everyone did except for (surprise, surprise) the twins and Padma. But no one had time to say anything more, as the three of them appeared through the doorway. Startled gasps were heard all around the room, and Hermione realized that many hadn't seen them recently except in pictures.

And they looked even more ethereal then usual that night. Draco and Blaise had dressed identically in robes of crushed emerald velvet that were trimmed in black, and the material hugged them to their waists tightly, sleek muscles visible even through the thick fabric. The robes were slit down the sides from their hips to their feet, and the hems barely brushed the floor, whispering over marble as they moved with light-footed grace. The slits revealed teasing glimpses of black leather and snow-white flesh before their legs disappeared into tall, graphorn-hide boots. Their hair fell down around them like silken waterfalls, except for braids that matched Padma's exactly.

Ginny also wore velvet, but it was a gown instead of robes that clung to every curve, and it was dyed a purple so deep and dark it was almost black. The bodice looked as if she'd been poured into it, pushing her milky white breasts up enticingly and showing off her slender waist. Her smoky eyes were sparking, and her skirt was slit down the sides as well. Fishnet tights the same color as her dress, and which looked like spider webs, traveled the length of her long legs before they reached her five-inch spiked heels. Different hues of crimson swayed around her in tight ringlets, and she, too, had tiny, intricate braids plaited into the front of her hair, but she also wore a cloak of the same material as her gown.

"They look like fallen angels." Hermione muttered, not even aware that she had spoken aloud until Sirius questioned her.

"What are those?"

"Nothing. Just a muggle thing." She whispered back, watching the two trios take the last spots at the head table. They had barely sat down when one of the guests a few tables over stood and spoke.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Pansy watched her friends closely as they glided towards the head table. The use of a title before Virginia's name had shocked even her, and she wondered what they were up to, although she did have a nagging, impossible idea. There was no telltale ring on her friend's finger, nor had she been announced as their betrothed. And was Padma coming in with the twins a statement that the other three weren't with her sexually? Even their closest friends didn't know _that_ detail, and it was slowly driving them all mad. But they had worn identical, sixteen-strand braids, which were reserved for members of the wizarding nobility who were bonded in some way to one another.

So they had answered the question of whether or not they had some sort of magical ties with her, but it left a thousand more unanswered, while creating an entire slew of new ones. They reached the table and took their seats, Draco and Blaise in the center, Virginia on Draco's left, Padma on Blaise's right, and Fred (the kohl around his eyes was black) sat beside his sister while George (the kohl around his eyes was dark gray) slid in beside Padma. And then she glimpsed the braids hidden in the twins' hair as they turned their heads to say something to their sister. Twelve strands, also in a bonding pattern, but with extra twists at the ends. Sweet Circe, what had they done?

Those little twists were the symbols of sworn liegemen.

"My lords?" A wizard called, standing. She thought for a moment before placing his name. Gransby Dirlock, the lord of a small fiefdom in northern Britain. He looked quite nervous. It probably had something to do with the fact that Blaise and Draco owned him.

"Yes?" Draco acknowledged him with a tilt of his head, his eyes glinting knowingly.

"I mean no disrespect, my lords, none at all, but…She is not a Lady, and it is not proper to address her as such. No Weasley has held a title in centuries." The man shot a sideways look at Virginia's parents. And his words were true. Everyone knew that they had been hit hard during the Inquisition, and their family had had no choice but to sell their properties in order to flee. In doing so, they had forfeited their titles and ruling responsibility. Things had never looked up for them after that, and it was what had started the feud between them and the Malfoys and Zabinis. Because it was those families that had talked them into selling, that had bought their lives from them and left them to ruin.

"We are aware of that." Blaise replied, but said no more, making the man sweat a bit.

"Then she should not bear one, my lords." The man said, fidgeting under their intense stares.

"Yes, she should. We wanted to break it to you gently, you see." Draco intoned silkily, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Break what to us, my lords?"

"That we have given it all back." Blaise said simply, and the controlled masks of the guests cracked, their jaws dropping in a most undignified way. Arthur looked as if he were about to faint, especially when Draco continued after a few stunned seconds.

"Willow Bright and the rest of their ancestral lands have been returned to them, along with the titles that go with them. The rites to fully reunite the family members with their inheritance will be preformed in four days time, but Virginia and her twin brothers have already undergone it."

"Count yourselves lucky." Blaise added. "For you are witnesses to the restoration of a great House. But there will be time to talk of that later. For now, enjoy yourselves. This is a ball, is it not?"

"Yes, yes, Lord Zabini." The man gushed before falling back into his seat.

The band picked up once more as the first courses appeared on the tables, and soon people were laughing and jesting again, although they couldn't help shooting glances at the four Weasleys who had been completely floored by Draco and Blaise's little pronouncement. Pansy actually felt for them. To have the impossible handed to you within less than a minute, completely out of the blue, would have been a shock to just about anyone. Pansy had suspected that Draco and Blaise might do something like what they just had, but she'd never thought that they would restore the entire family. Nothing like it had been done since the last wizarding monarchy fell.

Dinner went by smoothly, the laughter of the guests growing louder as more and more wine was consumed. By the time dessert was served, she was quite tipsy herself, and Anton had had nearly twice as much as she had. They could barely keep their hands off of each other underneath the table, and their attention only went back to the others when the Yule presents (between lovers only) started being exchanged. Her excitement grew as it got closer and closer to Virginia's turn, as she and Padma were the only ones who knew what the other girl had gotten her boyfriends. It was hard to shop for males who had everything, but Virginia had come up with an absolutely genius idea.

Draco and Blaise went first, exchanging presents with one another. They had a tradition of only giving each other weapons for Yule, no one really knew why, but they always had. And they didn't disappoint. Blaise gave Draco a set of twin hatchets that looked ancient, yet were in perfect condition, and they were spelled to never miss their targets. Draco, in return, gave Blaise a Roman war bow that was studded with sapphires, and a quiver of solid silver arrows, the heads of which exploded on contact. Turning to Virginia, they handed her a long black box, which she opened to reveal a platinum pendant in the shape of a crescent moon.

"This," Draco said as his deft fingers removed it and clasped the silver chain it was attached to around her throat, "is an Isisian charm."

Those at the table and within hearing range grew still at his words. The way of that spell was lost to their people. How had they duplicated it? Surely they had to mean something else besides the charm that had inspired legends. It was fabled that only the greatest of their kind could actually produce one, and they had to be able to work in perfect harmony with a partner in order to accomplish it. It was a risky spell, as part of the makers' spirits were put inside it, and it was supposed to have the power to truly grant three wishes to whoever bore it. Virginia looked at her lovers with wide eyes, and then back down at the pendant, which seemed to melt into her flesh, disappearing.

"Wow." She said softly, running fingertips over the smooth skin that showed no signs of having a necklace buried underneath it. "Wow."

"So I take it that you approve?" Blaise asked, and Pansy thought that he was teasing until she looked over at them. He and Draco actually looked _nervous_. Blaise was chewing on his bottom lip, and Draco was obsessively smoothing the hem of his sleeve, while both had their eyes locked onto their girlfriend. She lifted her own to meet theirs, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Are you kidding? I _love_ it!" She exclaimed ecstatically. Her boyfriends very nearly visibly sagged with relief. "I know how much time this had to have taken you, and how taxing it must have been. I _was_ curious as to why you two seemed more weary than usual lately, but I think this answers that question. The price you paid for this means more to me than any amount of gold or jewels. Merci." ((Thank you.))

And then Virginia broke about a thousand rules of propriety as she crawled into Draco's lap and kissed him senseless in front of the entire assembly. An amused smirk twisted Blaise's lips as he watched them, but his eyes were turning dark and hungry. They broke apart after a minute and Virginia moved so swiftly that within a single heartbeat, she was straddling Blaise's lap as if she'd always been there. Her mouth had already found his and they kissed just as passionately. Pansy looked to Draco, whose eyes had glazed, and didn't try to suppress a smirk of her own. If everyone was given that sort of thanks for a gift, then they'd probably give them more often.

"Je t'aime deux." She heard Virginia whisper throatily, and was surprised to see her back in her seat. ((I love you both.))

"Nous t'aime aussi." They replied in unison, slightly breathless. Another smile lit up Virginia's face, although her eyes clouded with the same nervous worry that theirs had been full of moments ago. ((We love you too.))

"Would you like to see yours now?" She asked, and they nodded wordlessly, their eyes drinking in every movement that she made as she stood. Pansy and Padma exchanged anticipatory glances, and when they turned back, Virginia was on the other side of the table, facing her boyfriends, who now looked quite curious.

"Mon âme, what are you doing?" Draco queried, his frost-colored eyes flashing as he watched her.

"You said that you wanted to see your present." Virginia replied, her voice hiding her anxiousness admirably.

"Couldn't you show us from over _here_, though?" Blaise asked.

"Of course." She said. "If you want me to stand on the table, that is."

Their lips tightened as they fought smiles, and they motioned for her to continue. She closed her eyes and turned her back to them, reaching around and pulling all of that heavy hair over one shoulder. Her hands then went to the clasp of her cloak, and her boyfriends' confusion grew, as did their glares at the other males in the room who couldn't help but watch with bated breath. The clasp came undone and she let the thick cloak fall ever-so-slowly down her shoulders and to the floor. Her gown was backless, and the others at the head table got their first look at the masterpiece that was inked permantly into her skin.

The enchanted tattoo covered her entire back, from her shoulders to her waist, and even Pansy and Padma sucked in an awed breath. Had it been so vibrant earlier? Had it seemed so _alive_? Pansy didn't think so. They'd sat with her while she'd had it done, had held her hands as she'd screamed in agony for over three hours, and they'd had the bruises to prove it before she'd healed them. Enchanted tattoos were not easy to do or to have done, and she'd barely been able to stand when it was over. They'd been worried that her boyfriends would notice her exhaustion when they got back to the Manor, but they'd found them at the point of collapsing themselves.

The design on her back consisted of two crossed swords, one a twin of Blaise's own, and one a twin of Draco's. A constantly moving rune of infinity tied the blades together where icy silver met abyssal black, and thorny red roses twined around each sword from the Death and dragon shaped hilts to the razor-sharp points. A name was scrawled down each blade in the old tongue, the symbols done in graceful curves and flawless lines. The silver sword, which was outlined in black, also had the symbols done in the same void-like color, and they spelt out Draco's full name. The other sword was the exact opposite, Blaise's name shining like liquid mercury upon the black blade.

The colors seemed to shift and change, and it took the eyes a moment to realize that the vines of the roses were not vines at all, but tiny, slithering snakes, each one eating the tail of the one before it. Their small bodies writhed back and forth slowly, causing the blood-red petals of the roses to sway as if in a breeze. Pansy ripped her eyes away to look at Draco and Blaise, and knew when she saw their faces that Virginia had chosen the perfect gift. They looked as if they were falling in love with her all over again, their eyes shining with an open devotion that Pansy, in all her years of knowing them, had never seen before.

So what did you get two wizards who had everything? The one thing that they couldn't buy. Yourself, unmistakably branded as theirs for eternity.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Anton downed another glass of wine that was spiked with Nirvana, the ambrosial flavor of the substance giving his taste buds their own small orgasm as Pansy's fingers slid tauntingly up his thigh. Digging his nails into the ebony wood of the arm of his chair, he tried to concentrate on _not_ grabbing her by the hair, bending her over the table, and fucking her silly. It wasn't easy. Trying to distract himself, he let his eyes wander around the room. Those still too young to take part in the late night festivities had been sent to their rooms over two hours ago, and everyone else had proceeded to drink, smoke and snort their way into a blissful haze.

It didn't really matter how you decided to take the neon orange powder, but Anton preferred to drink it, since in his opinion, it never tasted better then it did in wine. Pansy disagreed, swearing that nothing was sweeter than mixing a teaspoon full into a mug of hot cocoa. His eyes traveled to Draco, Blaise and Mira, the stars that glittered everywhere seeming to swirl and leave multi-colored trails as his head moved. His friends had left their seats and were crowded around their mothers and Severus, laughing hysterically as they tried to get the adults to hit the Nirvana cigarillos they were holding out to them. They refused time and time again, not noticing George sneaking up behind them.

He sprinkled the bright powder into their goblets while their heads were turned before taking his seat again stealthily, and Draco, Blaise and Mira acted defeated a few moments later, going back to their own places. Virginia and Padma looked up with unfocused eyes as they sat down, and somehow still managed to appear rightfully suspicious. Anton looked away as a movement from his right caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see Melody place her hand on Daphne's thigh and whisper something in the girl's ear. He didn't think anything of it until a pink tongue darted out and licked the shell of said ear. Just stopping himself from choking, he nudged Pansy.

"What?" She asked, her hypnotic eyes meeting his. He would have forgotten what he was going to say in favor of simply staring at her, but a small moan from beside him brought back his train of thought.

"Did you know about Melody and Daphne?" He asked in a low voice, and disbelief flickered in her drugged gaze.

"What about them?" She questioned, and looked over his shoulder, her eyes widening at what she saw. "Oh _gods_. They're going to regret snorting so much of that shit tomorrow, especially if they keep _that_ up."

"Tell me abou—" He started, but Narcissa's voice distracted them.

"Severus, dear, we really should do something about those horns. They don't become you at all."

"Horns?" Severus asked, and raised his hands to his forehead. His fingers came into contact with nothing, yet he still yelped in a very un-Severus-like way. "Where'd those come from?"

"I'm not sure, dear." Narcissa responded, and she got wobbly to her feet, leaning on the table for support.

A second later, she lost her balance completely and tumbled, somehow still gracefully, into Silana's lap. Severus moved to help her and succeeded only in getting his foot tangled in the bottom of Arthur's robes. He fell, _giggling_ as he did so, and the sudden force of it yanked Arthur straight out of his chair and underneath the table. Molly let out peal after peal of delighted laughter, while her two oldest sons chuckled madly at their father's misfortune. Arthur didn't even try to get up, just laid on the floor laughing at himself, tears of mirth streaming down his ruddy face. Severus, however, surfaced just in time to see his wife locking lips with her best friend.

"Sweet fucking Merlin, my _eyes_!" Draco cried out in disgust, clamping his hands over the offended orbs. Blaise whimpered in agreement, and he had the same unable-to-look-away expression that one does when seeing a horrible accident.

"I dreamed this once." Severus said in a hushed, reverent whisper. "I really hope I'm not just doing it again." His words seemed to shake Blaise out of his horrified trance.

"Well, you have bloody _problems_, Severus." He snapped, before looking around desperately. "_Do_ something, damn it! Make them _stop_!" Draco was the one to whimper in agreement that time, still not uncovering his eyes.

"I'm on Snape's side with this one." Fred intoned cheerfully, obviously enjoying their discomfort. "'Cause this is totally hot."

"Shut up, shut up _now_, or I swear by the gods that I'll zap you." Blaise threatened.

"_Zap_ me?" Fred asked incredulously. "What on earth are you talking about? And you have to admit, your mums are definitely foxy." A small bolt of lightening shot out of Blaise's hand and wiped the teasing smirk right off Fred's face as all of his hair stood on end and his skin started sparking. "_What the hell_?" Fred exclaimed once he could talk again, and Blaise sneered, carefully not looking in his mother's direction.

"I _told_ you I'd zap you." Blaise huffed, while Fred glared at his laughing twin and their friends. Then he looked back over at Blaise, as if considering something.

"Do it again." He requested, and the laughter stopped for a split second before starting up again gleefully. The next few minutes were highly entertaining for many people, as they watched Blaise electrocute Fred until the redheaded young man was talking nothing but gibberish and grinning insanely. Severus, meanwhile, was still ogling his wife and her friend, whose matching moans had their sons nearly coming out of their skin.

"That's it!" Draco declared, and summoned Virginia's fallen cloak. With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he threw it over the two women and preformed a quick silencing spell. When Severus made a noise like a wounded animal, Blaise groaned and enlarged the cloak, allowing his godfather to slip underneath it with them.

"I'm not going to be able to eat for a week." Blaise complained, lighting another Nirvana cigarillo. The bright green, cloying smoke made its way up towards the heavens above them in coiling tendrils, and he sucked in a long drag, exhaling lethargically as the tension seemed to drain out of him. He passed it to Draco, who still looked quite shell-shocked, before he spied something in the distance and his navy eyes narrowed. "Make that three weeks, and would someone please gouge out my eyes?"

"What is it?" Padma asked from where she'd moved over earlier to sit next to Virginia while they'd been harassing their elders.

"Granger and—"

"Whatever it is, say no more." Draco cut him off. "I really, truly and honestly do _not_ want to fucking know." But it was too late, as George followed Blaise's line of sight.

"Sirius!" He exclaimed, before immediately dropping his voice. No one else but those who had been at the Manor the last two days knew that Sirius was there, and they intended to keep it that way. Luckily, all of the guests were just as fucked up as they were.

"Didn't I _just_ say that I didn't want to know?" Draco demanded, his nose scrunching up in severe distaste.

"Gods, she _does_ get around now, doesn't she?" Pansy remarked acidly. She started to say something else when someone approached their table. Looking up, they were met with the familiar, yet somehow lacking, figure of Parvati Patil. The girl was obviously wasted, she could barely walk, but her gaze stayed steadily glued on her twin. Anton didn't miss Padma stiffening, didn't miss the guarded expressions that crossed Draco, Blaise, Virginia, Fred and George's faces.

"Well, sister, don't you look different." Parvati said as a way of greeting, and her voice had a nasty, jealous edge to it that Anton didn't like. And one glance in the girl's eyes told him more about how dissimilar she and her sister were than any words could have. Realization came to him even through his intoxicated state, and he groaned inwardly. Of course. Wizarding twins went one of two ways. They were either so alike and so close that they were thought to share a single soul between them, or they were completely different from one another in every way, opposite sides of a coin.

One guess as to which they'd turned out to be.

"I don't know, _sister_." Padma replied, her voice strained, yet as serene as always. "Do I?"

"That's not the point." Parvati stated, seeming to have forgotten the fact that she'd brought it up in the first place. And they _did_ look a lot different, especially when they were together. It was like a third year's watercolor drawing standing before an authentic Van Gogh (who had been a wizard, of course). "What have you done? I've been sick the last few days, and I can barely sense you anymore."

"You could barely sense me in the first place." Padma replied, the first hint of anger breaking through her perpetual inner peace. Parvati attempted to glare and nearly fell over.

"You still think you're just _so_ much better than me, don't you?" The girl accused.

"She _is_ better than you." Virginia said, a menacing sneer twisting her scarlet lips. _Gods, what did the girl do_, Anton wondered, _to merit such loathing from __Virginia?_

"Oh, thank you." Parvati responded sarcastically. "What an absolutely lovely hello from the hostess. Feeling better now that your family won't be dirt poor any longer, are you? Everyone knows how precious the vineyards at Willow Bright are." Virginia's eyes began burning, and she started to bite back when her boyfriends beat her to it.

"_Remember to whom you speak_." They hissed, and Parvati paled rapidly. Looking back over her shoulder as she retreated a few steps, she spotted her parents, who were completely unaware of what was happening, and it seemed to bolster her courage. But not enough for her to face _them_. Just enough for her to turn back to her sister with a look of such utter hate that it shocked Anton in a way that few things ever did anymore. Fred and George looked appalled, and he doubted that they'd ever met a set of twins like _these_ before.

"I despise you." Parvati stressed in a low, furious voice, and Anton caught the flash of pain in Padma's eyes before an eerie, calm contempt settled inside of them.

"I know." She said emotionlessly. "The feeling is quite mutual, I can assure you."

"Why are you here? Why have you _been_ here? You were supposed to come back from Paris days ago, and yet I find you seated at the head table as a guest of honor." Parvati spat out the last word, as if she didn't associate her twin with it inside her mind.

"She saved my life." Virginia supplied, the embers in her eyes beginning to morph into full-on flames.

"_Padma?_" Parvati questioned, giving a shrill laugh. "I don't believe you. How could my bookworm sister save so much as a doxy? All that knowledge and magic piled inside her _brilliant_ mind, yet she uses none of it." She finished caustically, and Padma's control seemed to erode under her sister's sharp, cutting words. She rose from her chair regally, the effects of the Nirvana not seeming to faze her for the moment. Or maybe they were. Maybe that's what prompted her quiet, malevolent outburst.

"People change." Padma said, a hidden strength, one that seemed oddly familiar, manifesting itself in her green-shot eyes. "I've changed, obviously, or you would not even have bothered to come and insult me. For a long time, I did anything that you asked of me, simply because you were all that I had. But that has changed as well. I am not alone any longer, and I do not need your acerbic attentions, nor do I think you truly wish to know just _how_ I've changed."

"Do not presume to tell me what I wish and do not wish!" Parvati snapped, and Padma's eyes hardened even farther, a crushing weight seeming to fill them as the green in her eyes began to shine.

"Fine. Know this then, sister of mine. A forth bloodline has been thawed, and it shall be the last. The earth beckons and welcomes a Patil once more. It beckons and welcomes _me_." She said, truth and conviction ringing in every word. Parvati stumbled back a step, her eyes going wide with denial.

"N-No! It…_it cannot be!_" She stammered, looking at her twin as if she were a stranger.

Instead of verbally replying, Padma laid one hand on the table. It didn't seem that anything had happened at first, and Parvati looked temporarily victorious. But then Padma pulled her hand away and everyone watched silently as twisting, serpentine vines sprouted out of the table's surface and quickly spread the entire length and breadth of it, slipping under plates and goblets without so much as spilling a drop. Parvati appeared terrified for a moment, before something inside her seemed to break. Fury swept across her features and she actually lunged over the table, her hands extended like claws as she went for her twin's throat.

Blaise, Draco, Virginia, Fred and George all made to intercept her, but there was no need. Padma's arm shot out with blinding speed and accomplished what her sister was foolishly attempting. Anton was surprised, for what felt like the millionth time that night, when he saw claws springing from her fingers, digging in almost hard enough to draw blood. Parvati fought back, swinging her arms wildly and kicking out with her feet in a vain effort to loosen her twin's grip. Goblets of wine went flying, stopped from making a complete mess by quick shields that Draco, Blaise and Virginia quickly threw up. But Parvati _did_ get a handful of Padma's right sleeve, which ripped off at the elbow as she flailed around. When it did, Anton nearly fell out of his chair.

Because on Padma's forearm, blazing darkly for all the world to see, was the Mark of Cocidius.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

hehehe…Horribly mean place to leave off, huh? You know you love me! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

Also, I'm looking for people who would like to do fan art for this story. Please let me know if you're interested!


	22. Are You Satisfied?

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to reviewers: tkmoore**, (builds shrine in your honor and sacrifices Pansy doll to keep Anton company)** Catalina Royce**, darling, I just _adore_ you!** Jan**, darling, I bow to your greatness as usual!** jenn**, (kisses!) and that part about Parvati being a type of cheese nearly killed me! I laughed forever!** seri-chan**, thank you so much! your review had me grinning like a fool!** angelfire33**, got a surprise for you in here! let's see if you can spot it, lol!** Carmilla Zabini,** thanks so much for the long review! it was awesome!** musiclover86**, thank you! **Skotos****Enigma**, love you, loved your pic! more Padma goodness just for you! :) **Haunted-Shadows**, accepts offer of fanart ecstatically love you! **sillysun**, I'm glad you liked the gifts! thanks! **Fallen**, breathe in, breathe out…now, read on and delight in the new knowledge provided herein, lol. **aoi-yuki-yume**, you said the magic word! fanart! (begs shamelessly for it) **Georgentosser**, thanks (again) for offering to help w/the French! **TarynMalfoy88**, thanks! and now you get to learn a bit more! **EvaYasha**, fanart…(drools) Please! **Goddess Of the Fallen**, Hermione as one of them?? I would _never_ do that to you, honey! :) **a.sam**, the wait is over, lol! **Serena**, thanks! **ForeverLoyal**, hope this was soon enough! lol **Psi**, please, please do fanart! (gets on knees and begs pitifully) **dancingirl**, love you too! hope this was quick enough! **sarah**, deep breaths, girl, deep breaths. :) **el**** chikita joules**, I'm glad you like it and thanks for reviewing! **babykelyse**, hehehe…evil, aren't I? **moonspirit11**, I tried to email you and send you some pics, but it kept coming back as a delivery failure. :( I'll keep trying, though! **me**, more Padma, lol! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, as always, thank you! **potts**, behold the answers to your question! **RebbeccaTurner01**, you're welcome, and thanks! **Iced Faerie**, don't worry about it, just review whenever you can, please! **chrissyangel**, sorry you don't like her, but she _is_ needed. :) **Voldemort8**, thank you!! **xxbabysparklesxx**, as usual, thanks! **kia**, it's okay, sweetie, read on and be happy! **Akasha**, don't worry, and thanks for reviewing! **mz.sammiz**, thank you! **enigma-spirit**, THANKS!! **Carolina**, hope this is soon enough! :) **Aubryawna**, _afterthoughts_?? never! sorry if it's seemed that way to you! :)

**cloaked**, my dear **cloaked**, where are you? I miss you so! :(

**Author's Note: **A special thanks to all of those who have risen to the fanart challenge, it is much appreciated! If anyone else who is interested, just let me know!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Fred and George lay sprawled out on the silk sheets of the huge bed in their new room, the one that they'd been given after the turmoil of the events in Paris had passed, relaxing for a bit after their morning bath before they headed downstairs. The Manor obeyed Draco even to the point of shifting its rooms around or just creating new ones altogether, and the latter is exactly what had been done. This room connected to their sister and her lovers' bedroom by the door to their left, and also to Padma's by a door directly in front of them. Her room also connected to their sister's, and she and the twins had been granted free access to come and go as they wished.

A full day had passed since the night of the Yule Ball, but none of them had left their rooms yet, the twins and Padma sleeping off the effects of the Nirvana while Draco, Blaise and Virginia had been busy consulting with their lawyer, Satordi, over the article that would be printed concerning the Weasleys return to the ruling aristocracy. Fred and George had taken it all in stride on the outside, but inside they were stunned. How long had their family aspired for such a thing? But they had always thought that if it ever happened, it would be because they'd somehow raised the money to finally buy it all back. They'd never even considered it being _given_ to them.

But it had been, and it had increased the twins' affection for their sister's lovers even more. They weren't horrid people like everyone assumed, but the twins could still see how others could think that they were. Not everyone had the pleasure of being bonded to them, after all. And that's exactly what the twins were. Bonded to all four of Cocidius's Chosen for eternity, or for however long they chose to walk this earth. They were to be their eyes and ears whenever they were needed, their right-hand men, and the ties between the six of them allowed for open trust. How could you betray someone when you could neither lie to them nor even raise a hand against them?

They had surrendered themselves freely when Cocidius had requested such a thing from them, and the god had bound their souls together, making the twins into true liegemen, into true, unwavering supporters. They had seen Padma Marked, had listened closely as the god had explained why she was needed. Draco, Blaise and Virginia (as they'd begun to call her for no real reason that they could place) had been reluctant at first, thinking that Cocidius meant for them to take Padma as a lover as well as their forth. But they'd consented when He'd told them that He would never force such a thing on them, no matter what the consequences.

And the twins also had Marks of their own, but they were not Chosen, not exactly. More precisely, they were not Cocidius's, nor any _god's_, Chosen. But if you wished to say that they were His Chosen's Chosen, then you wouldn't be too far off. They had grown in power dramatically, but were still nowhere near as strong as their new masters were. Their lives were tied to Virginia, Draco, Blaise and Padma's, and they would live for as long as those four did. Should one or more of them fall, the twins would grow weaker but not die. Not until the last Passed on. Not to say that they could not die on their own, of course, were they ever seriously wounded and without any aid.

But they did not dwell overlong on that, as everything seemed much too nice at the moment for them to worry themselves with a fate that they could not change, a fate that they did not even _desire_ to change. Some might find their easy acceptance hard to fathom, asking how they could so willingly agree to a life of servitude. But they did not see it like that, and they knew no way to make others understand, nor did they really care to. It wasn't any of their business anyway, and none of them knew the way that things became so very crystal clear when within a god's presence. Neither did they know what it was like to be magickally bound to someone in the way that the twins were bound to the four Elementals.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"What if someone from the ball breaks their oath of silence?" George asked, and Fred turned over to look at him as best he could in the almost non-existent light. The enchanted stars above them were the only illumination in the room, and had, say, Bill or Charlie come inside, they wouldn't have been able to see a thing. But the twins didn't need but the slightest hint of light anymore, and the dim radiance supplied just enough.

"Then they will regret it." Fred answered simply. One did not lightly break _any_ oath, let alone one given to a Malfoy and a Zabini.

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." A silky voice drawled from outside their drawn bed curtains, and it was their only warning before the fabric slipped open enough to allow two shadowy figures to crawl up onto the mattress with them.

"Is it, now?" Fred asked, a teasing lilt entering his tone.

"Of course." Blaise responded, as if it would be absurd for it not to be. "No one likes incurable leprosy." The twins choked, and then started snickering.

"Ooooh, that is _harsh_." They said in unison, quite glad that no such fate would be befalling _them_.

"Perhaps." Draco said, his lips curling into a sneer that said he didn't really think it was at all. "But that's not why we're here so early." He added, his expression evening out once more.

"What do you need?" George questioned without the slightest hint of hesitation, rising to a sitting position and stretching his bare arms over his head.

"Two things." He said neutrally. "Neither of which you _have_ to do. But both would be appreciated greatly." Their interest and curiosity peaked, the twins tilted their heads to the side and waited patiently for one of them to continue.

"We have an…errand, of sorts, to take care of before we return to school in two days. We leave tonight, and it is important that no one knows where we have gone once we do." Blaise told them, his indigo eyes serious. The twins nodded.

"We understand. Is Virginia going with you?" They asked, and the Slytherins' faces hardened.

"No. She must not know either." They replied, and the twins' mouths fell open.

"_What?_" They questioned, shock shining clearly in their eyes. The Slytherins looked away, as if they didn't quite believe that they were going to keep something from her either, but when they looked back, the twins could see that their resolve stayed firm.

"_No one_ else can know. Not even Virginia or Padma." Draco stated, his mercury eyes boring into theirs and glittering like the stars above them. The twins continued to stare for a moment or two, before nodding again slowly.

"We'll do whatever you ask, of course, but do we get to know _why_ you're doing this?" Fred asked, not liking the creeping suspicion growing in the back of his mind.

"We're going to see Voldemort." Blaise finally responded, right when the twins had decided that they weren't going to receive an answer. They almost wished that they hadn't as soon as the words had left his lips.

"Like hell you are." George hissed, poking him hard in the shoulder. Fred delivered an equally hard poke and potent glare to Draco.

"We _have_ to, alright?" Draco said, catching Fred's hand, and the twins saw something new and completely unanticipated in their friends' eyes. Fear. Not fear for themselves, oh no, never _that_. It was deeper than that could ever be. It was instinctual, primal, the sort of fear that creates an irresistible urge to protect and defend, to sacrifice _everything_ if need be. It was fear for Virginia, and it cut the twins straight to their cores.

"Alright." They replied once they'd found their wits again. A previously unseen tension seemed to leak out of the two Slytherins, and each gave the twins a grateful kiss on the cheek.

"Merci." Blaise murmured, his eyes distant, as if seeing something else entirely. Then they cleared again, and he gave a small smile. "Just…don't let them find out where we've gone. We will be fine, I promise you, but we cannot risk anyone coming after us, and we certainly cannot take Virginia with us. Not there. And she would demand to come if we told her. You know this." ((Thank you))

"Yes, we know she would." Fred sighed, understanding his sister's stubbornness all too well. "But you know that if she gets suspicious and opens the Marks we won't be able to keep it from her, just as we wouldn't be able to if it was the other way around."

"Oui." Draco said softly. "You must be quite pleased that we are rarely divided in such a way. I'm sure it must be a bit uncomfortable for you. That's why we got that part out first."

"Oh, yes, the _second_ favor." George said, putting on an air of martyrdom. "Please tell me that it won't be something like murdering and skinning helpless infants. Because that's the only thing that I can think of that would be worse than facing my sister if she finds out what you're planning to do."

"Non, non, it's nothing like that." The Slytherins laughed. ((No, no))

"Then what?"

"You have a shop in Bristol, do you not?" Blaise asked, and the twins felt a simultaneous shiver race down their spines.

"Yes." They answered promptly, wondering where they were going with this. Did they need something made? Or a place to hide if need be? But both of those options seemed quite ridiculous, and the twins couldn't glean anything from their Marks, as the two Slytherins were shielding their end tightly.

"Do you like it where you are?" Draco inquired, and they stiffened the slightest bit.

No, they didn't like where their shop was located at _all_. It was in the seedy section of wizarding Bristol, and their part of town was too unpopulated for word of mouth to spread very far, so the business was bad. They made just enough to pay their bills and keep themselves fed and clothed, and they were three weeks from losing the lease on their flat. They would have chosen a better spot, or at least relocated, but they simply didn't have the money. The gold Harry had given them years ago hadn't stretched very far, although it _had_ enabled them to create a whole horde of new products that they knew would sell like crazy if they could only get out of Bristol.

"Not particularly." Fred replied slowly, and the smirks on their faces testified that they could tell the twins hated it.

"Would you be terribly heartbroken to leave, then?"

"Not really." George said, his nose wrinkling as he wondered what they were up to. "Why?"

"Because," Blaise started, his smirk turning into a self-satisfied smile, "we have a proposition for you."

"See, we've been considering expanding into a new field for a while now." Draco explained, and a funny, fluttering feeling started between the twins' ribcages. "We weren't sure what sort, though, until we observed your skill when we mixed that potion up for your brother."

"You two have some true talent, and we're always looking for that." Blaise continued. "So we would like to offer you a contract with us."

"A wha—" The twins started, but Draco waved them silent.

"A contract." He repeated. "Should you accept, you'll be relocating to Diagon Alley and to the shop where Gladrags used to be. It will have to renovated, of course, and made suitable for your needs, but that won't take very long once we assign a team to it."

"We own the shop already, so you won't need to worry about a rent payment due every month. Although I doubt you'd have any trouble paying it if you do agree to all of this," Blaise said wryly, "as you would be keeping an eighty-five percent share of the total earnings, which is rare, but we like you. And if it catches on like we think it will…"

"And we have never been wrong regarding our businesses before," Draco added.

"Then within less than six months we could be turning it into a chain. And just for signing the contract, you'll get the same deal that all of the…_promising_ new business owners we enlist receive. It includes sponsored advertising, all of the supplies and staff that you will need for the first year, and a new residence that you may or may not move into, depending on your preferences."

"And then there is the signing bonus, of course." Draco finished, and they both looked at the twins expectantly, waiting for them to say something.

Fred and George, however, seemed to have lost the ability to think properly, let alone speak. Everything that they had been dreaming for, everything that they had sweat, bled and worked themselves into exhaustion for, had just been laid out before them, waiting patiently for their acceptance or refusal. And what sensible person would turn down such an offer from the owners of the largest, most successful corporations in their world? No one. If you'd asked them a few months ago if these two would ever give them the chance to prove themselves in such a way, they would have laughed, albeit humorlessly. Yet there they were, watching stunned as they were handed a thick folder.

They opened it slowly, almost reverently, and saw the familiar sight of Gladrags, except the sign was gone and the outside had finally been repainted. Next were pictures of a country house that appeared to be far from any neighbors, which would be a relief considering how often one or another of their experiments exploded or malfunctioned when they were still in the testing phase. After that came the contracts themselves, and they skimmed over them silently, their hands shaking just enough for the words to slightly blur. Then they reached the part about the mentioned signing bonus, and their eyes widened impossibly, the parchment falling from their suddenly nerveless fingers.

"A...A _million_ galleons _apiece_!?" They cried, staring at their friends as if they'd gone mad. They received mildly confused looks in return.

"Oui." Draco replied. "Is it not enough? We could double it if you wish."

"_Double_ it? Sweet gods…" Fred muttered, feeling as if he were floating, as if he were in a dream that would end at any moment, leaving them back at their rundown shop in Bristol with no hope and no future.

"It's too much already without you doubling it." George stated, his blue eyes still glued to the contract lying on the sheets. "We'd never be able to pay you back for all of this."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. And you're not required to in the first place." Blaise insisted. When they made to argue, he held up a hand. "I know, I know. You would want to anyway. Which is why we've put a clause in your contracts that are not in most. We'll give you the opportunity to be co-owners, which is typical enough, but we're also offering you the chance to buy it all from us whenever you are able. We will not hold you to a life-long debt as we do most others, for we favor you and you are completely loyal to us, which is rare."

"You are highly skilled at what you do, as are we." Draco added, another smirk beginning to form on his frosty lips. "Together, we are sure we can have your business booming and thriving in no time, especially with the War looming over the population's heads. They will desire laughter and an occasional escape from reality, and your shop would provide that."

"Yes, but…" Fred started slowly, his head still spinning and his adrenaline rushing at the very thought of them getting such an opportunity. "But what if it doesn't work out?"

"It will." Draco assured them, and his confidence bolstered theirs. They shared the briefest of glances before turning back to the two Slytherins and picking up the contracts once more.

"Alright. But the bonuses aren't necessary, I mean, Willow Bright will be bringing in quite a good sum, and we could always just—"

"Enough with that already." Blaise said exasperatedly, pulling on a lock of Fred's hair. "You've earned it, and it won't hurt us any, I promise. Besides, I know as much as you do that you don't want to ask your sister for money." He finished, referring to the fact that even though they were giving everything back, all of it was going to Virginia to do with as she wished. It broke tradition to give it to the youngest in the family line, but when had something like that ever stopped them? And it ensured that Ron received nothing, as she was renouncing all of her familial ties with him.

"We don't want to ask _you_ either." George said, his eyes still wide and unbelieving.

"You're not." Blaise said simply, smirking at the looks of realization crossing their identical features. "You haven't asked us for a thing. In fact, I do believe _we're_ the ones asking _you_." The twins shared another glance, and came to a unanimous decision.

"Do you have a quill?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Padma drifted awake lazily, and it took her a moment to remember where she was when she saw dark green bed curtains instead of blue. Then a smile curved her lips and she sat up, the furs that had been keeping her warm falling to her waist. A bath sounded delicious, but the walk through the cold air to get to it did not. The Mark on her arm pulsed as if to remind her that she need not worry about it, and she opened it just enough to let Draco's essence flow into her, making the chill in the air disappear completely as ice ran through her veins. She shivered, the cold unbearable for a split second, before the magic evened out and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Throwing the furs and silk sheets off of her, she padded on silent feet through the archway on her left, breathing deeply as the scent of Frankincense welcomed her. Steam rose off the water in the sunken pool that was centered in the middle of the room, and she looked around dreamily. She loved this place. The Patil Estate was by no means shabby, but she had never seen such levels of extravagance before she'd come to the Manor. And the bathroom that had been created in her room was simply extraordinary. Black marble made up the walls and floor, the heavens shown above her, and it had been enchanted to look like a piece of the forest.

Pines and cedars stretched to impossible heights, circling the pool and giving it a secluded feeling that she cherished. As she drew nearer to the pool and passed into the ring of trees, the marble faded to black soil and lush grass, the rich smell of earth drowning out the incense and striking a chord deep within her. Letting her night robe fall from her shoulders, she slid into the heated water and very nearly moaned in pleasure. A bench ran around the circumference of the pool two or three feet under the surface, and she let herself sink onto it, the steam curling around her face and over her head. Relaxing, her hair streaming out like dark seaweed, she let her thoughts wander.

First, of course, came memories of being Marked, of being filled to the brim with divinity until she'd been screaming in agony and ecstasy all at once. Cocidius had twisted and molded her soul, tying it inexorably with His own and with Virginia, Blaise and Draco's. She had known everything about them in those moments, had seen inside them just as they had seen inside her. Then had come all four's binding to the twins, and she had once more been soaking in thoughts and memories not her own. It had been strange, and yet, at the same time, utterly natural. Then Cocidius had sent the twins out to refuse entrance to anyone else while He'd given them their full inheritances.

Virginia, who could control any flame that she came across, was the first that He'd awakened to new abilities. He'd shown her how to use pure, scorching heat and receive devastating effects for her efforts. Padma had been next, and her power over the earth, over all things green and growing, had expanded to where she could harness even gravity. Blaise had been the third to succumb, and the air itself now called him Lord, obeying his slightest whim. Draco had been the last, his mastery growing to encompass water in all its shapes and forms, from the ice he was already familiar with to the salty sea.

They had told no one besides the twins of these new abilities, but Padma was sure that Pansy and Anton would be informed soon enough. She didn't have any problems with that, as she knew that they had been good friends to the others. But she didn't, under any circumstances, want the Gryffindors to know yet. She trusted the Slytherins that her fellow Chosen trusted, and she trusted the twins, but she didn't trust the other Gryffindors. Or anyone else, really. She'd learned early in life that there were few you could ever put your faith in safely, so she didn't. Not that there was really a problem there, since she hadn't had any real friends to begin with.

Not until now. Before, she'd kept herself distant and aloof from everyone, which had worked out fine, considering that her Housemates were too busy to socialize most of the time, anyway. The few that had approached her had been boys, and she had seen right through them with a single glance. The girls were all too intimidated by her name and her blank, haughty exterior to do more than say 'hello' in the mornings, and she'd liked that just fine. The majority of people were too fake for her tastes, even her Housemates, who were praised for their wisdom and intelligence. So she'd had no friends, but many would say that that didn't matter since she had a twin. Not true.

'_Oh,_ _Parvati_,' she thought with a weary sigh. Thoughts of her sister never consisted of anything good. And no matter how many times she tried to make herself stop loving the stupid bitch, she _couldn't_. Oh, she loathed her, abhorred her, despised her, but she could never seem to hate her. No matter how many times Parvati had lied to her, used her, vented her anger on her, Padma still could not turn her back on her mirror image. But then again, they had stopped being perfect mirror images years ago, hadn't they? It was their curse, after all. Twins like Fred and George, who were rumored to share a single soul, stayed completely identical in every way until they died.

But twins like her and Parvati…In another ten years, people would have a hard time even realizing that they were sisters. Every day they became more and more different, although the changes took a while to become noticeable, the process happening gradually. She actually appreciated the fact that they were no longer exactly the same, but deep inside her, in the farthest reaches of her heart, she'd resented it. She'd resented the fact that she couldn't have had the same connection with Parvati that Fred and George had with each other, resented the fact that what could have been her greatest friend had instead been someone who couldn't stand to be around her.

But that had changed with the Marking, with the bonding, just as so many other things had changed. She didn't feel empty anymore, didn't feel as if there was a part of her missing. She felt whole for the first time in her life, and she reveled in it. It's what had given her the ability to stand up to her sister, the one person that she never had before. She'd always been quick to tell people what she thought of them, although she usually did it with no more than a calm, judging, disdainful look. But Parvati had been a different case altogether. Because she had always secretly desired her twin's affection. So she had tolerated the hurtful words and painful blows.

How many times had she been forced to hide the bruises her sister had inflicted on her during one of her jealous rages? She could have easily overpowered Parvati, but she hadn't. She'd just sat there, as steady and unfeeling as the ground beneath her feet, finding that serene spot within herself that she had used so often to escape. That had, of course, enraged her twin even more, and Parvati had taught herself some vicious little tricks over the years, trying her damnedest to break Padma's detached, stony wall. She never had, though, and it had only intensified her dislike for her sister. Dislike that had rooted itself inside her when they were only toddlers.

It had started, to the best of Padma's knowledge, when they had begun speaking. Padma had caught on much quicker than her twin had, and their parents had praised her for it. Then she had taught herself to read before she could even run without falling down, and her parents had whispered 'Ravenclaw' and 'Head Girl' in hushed voices, although at the time, neither girl had known what they were talking about. Their entire family had treated them differently after that, cooing over Padma and scolding Parvati, telling her that she would never be a match for her sister if she didn't start acting more like her.

But it hadn't been until they were five or so that their parents had started downright insulting her. They'd treated Padma like an angel that could do no wrong, naming her their _true_ heir even though her twin was two minutes older, and they'd either completely ignore Parvati or have a scathing comment ready at a moment's notice. By the time that they were seven, Parvati couldn't take a drink of water without messing up somehow, and Padma couldn't so much as sneeze without them fawning all over her, making sure that their 'perfect' daughter wasn't falling ill. By their ninth birthday, Parvati was releasing her anger and pain on Padma.

At first, Padma had let her because she'd felt that she owed it to her sister for possessing all of their parents' affection. So she'd lain still and sedate on the floor of their bedroom while her blood had run over white marble, telling herself that Parvati didn't mean it, that she didn't really _want_ to hurt her. That illusion hadn't been shattered until their fifth year at Hogwarts. Parvati had often come to her room, something that was accepted by the other Ravenclaws since they were sisters, sometimes only to yell and complain, other times to let her fists and feet fly as she cursed and told Padma how worthless and utterly unloved she was.

But then Parvati had done something foolish. For over a year, she had been gushing over Blaise, and her greatest desire had been for him to ask to her the Yule Ball in their fourth year. He hadn't, of course, but she'd waited and waited, refusing to let Padma go with anyone because she'd said that Draco would need a date too, as he was Blaise's best friend. Padma had told her that it was stupid, that those two had their pick of the Slytherin girls, but Parvati hadn't listened. The gleam in her eyes had grown until it was quite worrisome, and it wasn't until they'd heard that Draco was going with Pansy and Blaise with Melody that she'd finally given up.

Harry had asked her later that same night, and she'd accepted, dragging Padma along with her on what had turned out to be a laughable double date. Parvati's obsession had stayed strong afterwards, and Padma had heard little else from her except some drivel about her 'profound talent in Divination', which Parvati had played up to ridiculous levels. Anything to be better than Padma in any way. But it wasn't until the beginning of winter in their fifth year that Parvati had lost her grip on reality and approached Blaise early one night in the library. Padma had been there, although Parvati hadn't seen her, and she'd been so shocked to see her twin in the library that she'd frozen.

Realization had come quickly, however, when Parvati had drawn herself up to her full height and stalked over to the raven-haired Slytherin, who had been scanning one of the shelves for some book or another. Padma had wanted nothing more than to stop her, but she'd known that any interference from her wouldn't have been appreciated. Parvati hadn't even said anything, just spun him around by one shoulder and planted her lips on his as if she owned them. Blaise had shoved her away violently, snarling and wiping his mouth off with one sleeve, letting loose a stream of insults and curses that had had Parvati sobbing before he'd left.

Padma hadn't revealed herself, for she'd known how quickly those tears could turn to slicing nails and sharp teeth, but she'd stayed awake that night until Parvati had come. She hadn't gotten any sleep, as usual, and had almost been too tired to do the necessary glamour spells in time for her classes the next morning. Surprisingly, Parvati had somehow convinced herself that Blaise was simply playing hard to get, and she'd stared at him with misty eyes the entire day. That night, they'd been on their way to the Ravenclaw common room when they'd been pulled into a shadowy corridor, and they'd been surprised to see Draco before them, his wand out and pointed at Parvati threateningly.

He'd told her, ignoring Padma after a short nod in her direction, that she was to stay the fuck away from Blaise and keep her eyes off of him, because if he ever smelt her sneaky, slimy scent on him again, it would turn rank and rotting, as he would bury her in a discreet, quiet grave with worms and slugs as her only companions. To emphasize his point, he'd hexed her eyes shut. Madam Pompfrey hadn't been able to do anything, forced to let the spell fade on its own, which had ended up taking three days. When Parvati had been released, her hopes crushed and shattered, the following beating had been much more severe than any preceding it, and those had been bad enough.

It was that night, looking deeper into her twin's eyes then she'd ever allowed herself to before, that she'd experienced a sort of enlightenment. Parvati wasn't doing it because she couldn't help it, nor was she doing it because she didn't know that it was wrong. Because she _could_ help it, and she _did_ know that it was wrong, but she didn't care. She honestly loved to see Padma's skin split open, and she was never more delighted then when she was causing her sister pain. She did it because she wanted to; she did it because she hadn't become quite sick and twisted enough to poison Padma yet, as she so desired to do.

Those bits of knowledge had been the first that Padma had ever wanted to throw away and forget, and they had hit her like a knife in the heart. Her sister didn't just dislike her. She truly hated her. And so for the first and last time, Padma's inner peace had been slaughtered brutally, weakening and crumbling under the one thing that she hadn't had any defenses against. She'd been a shell of herself for days afterwards, missing classes for the first time, since she'd refused to leave her room. She'd just sat in her window seat, thankful for once that her parents had favored her more and had arranged for her to have her own room.

She'd piled all of the plants that choked the free space in her room that her books didn't around the window, burying her fingers in the soil and blanking her mind, closing her emotional wounds away as she'd always done, although it had taken quite a bit longer that time. When she'd finally reemerged from her reclusive retreat, four days had passed and she didn't speak a word to her sister for weeks, barring her room at night and ignoring Parvati's demands to let her in. Nothing had been the same after that, and Padma had become even more drawn and secretive than before, throwing herself into her studies zealously and barely able to eat more than a bite at a time.

Parvati had haunted her steps for months, trying to make her life as miserable as possible, but Padma had been unreachable by then, her heart hardened and her spirit half-dead. Her Housemates had begun to think of her as a living ghost, avoiding her at all costs, as her eyes seemed to spook them in a way that they couldn't comprehend. '_How_,' she would hear them mumble amongst themselves when they thought that she couldn't hear, '_can_ _a person's eyes hold such tranquility and yet such wounded sorrow?_' She never bothered to answer them. They didn't truly care anyway, as long as she stayed to herself and kept her eerie eyes lowered.

Before that revealing night, before Parvati had splayed open her soul and stolen something that she'd thought to be irreplaceable, her pride and inborn arrogance would never have allowed her to do so, would have demanded that she confront those who whispered and hissed their suspicions. But that had been _before_. Her new wraith-like self hadn't minded as long as they'd left her alone, as well. And that's when she and Parvati had begun to lose their identical faces and forms. Parvati had stayed much the same, but Padma had filled out, her flat lines turning into curves and her body taking on a strength reminiscent of the earth that she so adored.

Her dark eyes had slowly begun to take on hints of green, her cheekbones had become finer and sharper, and her lips had turned full and pouty. In contrast, Parvati's eyes had lightened to a muddy brown, her cheeks were a bit rounder and constantly red, and her lips were barely more than thin, pale lines cutting across her sour face. Padma had still possessed enough of her old ego to take some pleasure in those facts, but not enough to set her free from her self-inflicted prison. That hadn't happened until that fateful day in Paris, when she had known, just suddenly _known_, that she was finally needed somewhere.

The Marking had done wonders for her, slamming through the bars of her inner cage and returning her again to what she had once been, proud, arrogant and self-assured. For the first time in her life, she had people that truly cared for her and that she knew would never leave her or turn on her. It was a new, exciting feeling, one that filled her previously callous heart with joy and wonder. Colors seemed brighter, birds sounded sweeter, and she no longer dreaded waking up in the morning. The place that Parvati had never really filled was practically stuffed now, and she had never known such happiness as she had in the last few days.

Drifting out of her thoughts as she felt a familiar presence enter the bath with her, she was shocked to find tears streaming continuously down her cheeks. Fiery arms wrapped around her comfortingly and she buried her head in Virginia's shoulder a second before the vision engulfed them both. The trees around them swirled and changed, everything becoming dark, and both would have panicked had their Marks not tingled, telling them that it was a genuine vision and not one from some malevolent source. Calming a bit, they watched silently as walls formed around them, flickering dimly in the weak light.

A figure solidified out of nothing, and Padma started when she recognized herself. She was searching for something, her attention fully on her task, and neither she nor Virginia could do anything as another figure, this one hooded, took shape, a long coil of metal in one hand and a wicked-looking scimitar in the other. Some sort of charm hung around its neck, and although they couldn't see it well enough to identify it, it was obvious that it was allowing the wearer to sneak up on Padma without her noticing. The metal whip lashed out, wrapping around Padma's throat from behind, and they knew it was made of davasca when her skin started smoking and blistering.

She was yanked backwards, falling hard to the ground as she tried desperately to free herself, her strength already being drained by the damnable whip. The figure closed on her, standing above her and raising the blade in its hand high. A pleased, sadistic laugh flowed like vile music from underneath the hood a moment before the blade came down, piercing her chest and causing her to convulse, her hands wrapping around it as she vainly tried to pull the sword free. Then her eyes glazed, her fingers falling away limply, and her attacker pulled back its hood, revealing itself to her as she took her last breath before death claimed her.

It was Parvati.

Screaming, Padma snapped out of the vision, her whole body trembling violently as she dry-heaved, choked sobs racking her slender frame. The arms around her tightened almost painfully, Virginia's voice murmuring soothing words in fluent French as her hands ran through Padma's hair and down her back in repeated, continuous movements. She vaguely heard the doors to her bedroom crashing open and into the walls, was distantly aware of four more bodies sliding fully clothed into the water as they surrounded her. The Marks were thrown open, their love and unwavering devotion swamping her, and her tears stopped slowly, her world righting itself once again.

"I'm sorry." She was finally able to get out minutes later, the Marks closing gently once more and leaving them to their own thoughts.

"You have absolutely _no_ reason to apologize, do you hear me?" Fred said, his voice breaking the slightest bit. They'd seen what the girls had seen when they'd opened the Marks, and none of them seemed very happy about it. She could feel Virginia's arms practically vibrating, and when she looked up, she saw it was in anger.

"I'm going to fucking kill her." Virginia said in a low, even tone, her charcoal eyes burning brightly with fury. "I'm going to string her up by her fucking hair and leave her for the Nundu to 'play' with. How _dare_ she, how—"

"It was only a vision." Padma said, scrubbing the last of the tears from her face. "She hasn't really done anything yet."

"'Hasn't done anything'?" George questioned with a nasty sneer. "She's done more than enough _already_ to warrant the removal of her more important organs by a helpful hand. Preferably _my _helpful hand."

A bit surprised at the vehemence in his voice and eyes, Padma bit her lip and wondered how she'd lived without these people for so long. She knew that if she were ever to be forced back into her former seclusion at this point, she would never be able to survive it. Not now that she knew what it was like to be truly loved, not now that she had finally found real friendship. Just the thought of never seeing them again, of never speaking to them again, was almost too depressing to bear. She knew that she would do _anything_, anything at all, for any one of them should they need it. She knew that she would lie, steal, cheat and kill if it came down to it, and she wondered why that thought didn't bother her.

"Please," she finally said, letting herself sink farther into the hot water, "I just want to forget about it. We can think on it later, alright?" She could feel their hesitation, but they all agreed, however reluctantly, in the end.

"Fine." Blaise sighed, flicking a handful of water at her playfully. "We have business to take care of anyway."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lycelle stared blankly at the items Hermione had laid out on the top of her bureau, before shaking her head and throwing her hands in the air.

"And just _what_, exactly, do you wish for me to do with _those_?" She asked the other girl, and Hermione laughed.

"Oh, come on, Lycelle, you do make-up charms all the time. This is just the muggle way to go about it." Hermione said, trying to keep a straight face as Lycelle's nose crinkled in distaste. "Look, let me show you. Come here." Lycelle did so, moving to Hermione's side slowly, her eyes never leaving the small, 'plasteek' containers, as Hermione called them, since she was a bit worried about them exploding or some such. She didn't trust muggle products _at all_, especially when Hermione picked up some weird little brush and told her to close her eyes.

"Why?" She asked warily, eying the little white brush as if it were some foul insect. Hermione groaned.

"Damn paranoid pureblood." She muttered, and pushed Lycelle down onto the chair that she had moved over earlier. "It won't bite, I promise. Now will you _please_ close your eyes?"

"Alright. But I really don't want to. And if this…_messes up_ somehow, I swear I'll never forgive you." Lycelle threatened, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Then she was dipping the brush into some dark gray powdery stuff, and Lycelle felt butterflies root themselves in her stomach. Why had she agreed to this? _Why_?

"Umm, you know what? On second thought—"

"I don't think so." Hermione said, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder. "You're not getting out of this _that_ easily. Now, just hold still and _close your eyes_."

So Lycelle did, against her better judgment. Calling on every bit of self-control that she possessed, she made not so much as a single sound while Hermione ran the brush lightly over her closed eyelids. Her entire body was rigid, awaiting something awful, and she was quite surprised when nothing horrible happened. Her cheeks were next, then her lips, and when she was finally told to open her eyes again, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stared. It was almost as good as a cosmetic spell. The lines weren't as straight and seamless, the colors weren't as perfect, but it was actually pretty good for some strange muggle concoction.

"Lady Park'nson?" A house elf suddenly called from the doorway, and they turned to face it.

"Yes?"

"The Masters reques' your presence in the Judging Room. They say you bring _her_, as well." It said formally, and a chill shot down Lycelle's spine.

The Judging Room. This in no way could be a good thing. She'd never been there before, but she'd heard it spoken of in low, frightened whispers. The House Seat of every Lord or Lady had one, but none so feared as the ones at Malfoy Manor and Tenebre Stella. Because among their people, the Malfoys and Zabinis were the closest thing that they still had to monarchs, being as powerful as they were, not to mention direct descendents from the last true sovereigns, and within those rooms, their word was as good as law. Fear making her legs weak, Lycelle rose shakily, worrying Hermione with her pale complexion and wide, alarmed eyes.

"Lycelle? What is it?"

"Do not speak." Lycelle said mechanically, pulling Hermione to her feet. "Whatever you do, say not a word until you are addressed. Do not make eye contact unless you mean it as a challenge or a threat, and obey the rules of courtly protocol the best you can. And pray, to whatever god or gods you believe in, that we both make it out of that room alive and in one piece."

Hermione blanched, but kept her lips tightly sealed as they swept out of the room, following the small, lofty elf that kept shooting venomous looks over its bony shoulder at Hermione. Lycelle's dread grew with every step that they took, and she racked her brain, trying to figure out what they had done to merit such a summons. They wound deeper and deeper into the heart of the Manor, walking for what felt like hours before they came out into a foyer done in unrelieved black, the only illumination a single ball of witchlight near the ceiling. They were confused and surprised to see the others who were still staying at the Manor there as well.

They were lined up before two obsidian doors in pairs, Narcissa and Silana at the head. Severus and Armynel were next, then Pansy and Anton, Melody and Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle. Mira was gone, needed back at Beauxbatons to sign her transfer papers. She had decided, after seeing firsthand how much shit her cousin and his lovers were dealing with, that she would finish off her sixth year and her seventh at Hogwarts. Since only fools ignored a veela's instincts, her mother and Madame Maxime had consented to the transfer, as had Dumbledore when he'd been contacted the day before. Her presence at the school was sure to make things anything but boring.

The Weasleys were there as well, Molly and Arthur at the head of their family. Bill and Charlie were next in line, then Ron and Sirius, who was once more in his own body. Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair when she saw him, dropping her eyes to the floor as she and Lycelle went to stand behind them. If Lycelle hadn't been so nervous about whatever was about to happen, she would have laughed when she saw Ron. The neon pink scales had mostly disappeared, but patches of them still remained, and by the way he was constantly scratching some part of himself, they itched terribly. The room grew chilly suddenly, and a ghost floated through the doors.

It was tall and thin, dressed in a tunic and open robes that were more than three hundred years outdated, and it carried it self with a dignified air. Its features resembled Draco's too strongly for it to be anything but a Malfoy, and the cold glare that it leveled on them was so reminiscent of their silver prince that it only solidified that belief. It said nothing, simply beckoned despotically for them to follow it. It slid back through the doors and they swung open slowly, allowing them all to shuffle inside before they closed again without so much as a 'click'. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself when she felt the dark, dangerous power cloaking the room, Lycelle looked up.

The walls and floor were the same black marble that most of the Manor was done in, but the walls were covered in tapestries that had been saved from the burning of the last great Imperial Palace, which had occurred when the last altar had run dry more than a thousand years before. The stitched scenes depicted the royals through the ages, and Lycelle couldn't stare long at them without feeling a great well of sadness and remorse rise up from some place deep inside her. Silver candelabra stood in all four corners of the room, and two stood to either side of the altar that was once more trickling crystalline water, creating a lulling, soothing melody.

But even that couldn't stop Lycelle's heart from pounding madly, and it was with great trepidation that she glanced toward the front of the large room. Two caliginous, imposing thrones sat in the dead center of a raised dais, and four slightly smaller ones flanked them, two on each side. They were made of a black metal that she couldn't identify until their group drew closer, and when she did, her knees nearly gave out. Ebentine. Sweet gods, the thrones were made from solid chunks of pure ebentine. She had thought that Blaise's swords were the largest pieces of the metal still left in their world, but she had, apparently, been mistaken.

Seated upon the center thrones were Draco and Blaise, both of whom were clothed in the ethereal black robes that they'd been wearing when they'd come out of that pit on the Quidditch pitch. Virginia also wore her robe of the same material, as did Padma, Fred and George, although Lycelle had no idea where the latter three had gotten theirs. They were seated as they'd been at the Yule Ball, Virginia on Draco's left and Fred beside her, his throne a little behind hers and to the side, just as hers was to Draco's. Padma was on Blaise's right, George beside her, and Lycelle knew that the four secondary thrones would usually have held siblings or heirs.

They sat with straight backs, their hands curled loosely around the arms of their thrones and their faces devoid of any emotion whatsoever. On the wall behind the dais hung two huge crests, the Malfoy one on Draco's side and the Zabini one on Blaise's. The tips of the swords met in the center, and the colors that made up the crests were impossibly vibrant. Their group stopped before the dais and spread out into a single, horizontal line, everyone kneeling and bowing their heads. Ron refused at first, but Sirius pulled him down roughly, giving him a stern, hard look that clearly said he'd better behave himself. Draco was the first to break the silence, getting right to the point.

"Someone," he started in a spectral, ominous voice, "has been leaking information to Voldemort." Everyone froze, and not so much as a single, indrawn breath could be heard for what felt like forever. It was worse than she'd thought.

"He's known too much that he shouldn't have," Blaise continued, his voice as unearthly as Draco's, "and we will not tolerate traitors. So you all have two choices."

"The first," Draco supplied, "is to take Veritaserum and prove your innocence. The second is to leave immediately, and from this day forward attempt no contact with any of us. There are no exceptions." Everything was still for another long moment until Pansy and Anton both lifted their heads.

"We will drink, my lords." They said together, their fingers tightly intertwined. A second later, a house elf appeared with a vial in each hand and handed them to them. Pansy and Anton each took one, grimaced slightly, and drained them without any farther hesitation. Both fell forward onto their hands, their knuckles turning white as their fingers clenched into fists, and they gritted their teeth against the pain, not so much as a whimper escaping them. Draco spoke to Anton first once they'd started breathing normally again.

"Your name?"

"Anton Adrien McGregor."

"Your heart?"

"She kneels beside me."

"Your loyalty?"

"To you, Lord Zabini and your Lady, my lord."

"And has that loyalty ever wavered?"

"Never."

"Have you ever met the Dark Lord Voldemort, known in some circles as Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"Once, my lord."

"And what was said?"

"He offered me a place in his ranks upon my majority."

"Did you accept?"

"And kneel to a halfblood? Of course not, my lord."

"Were you punished for your refusal?"

"Yes. But I cared not."

"Have you ever, at any time, given Voldemort or any of his supporters any sort of information?"

"No. I would never betray you in such a way, my lord."

"As you say. You may rise."

Anton did so, and Pansy went next. Slowly, they all had their turn, the questions changing to suit whoever was being asked. But when they reached the last person and all had been able to state that they weren't spying for Dark Lord, the six figures on the dais looked even more suspicious than before. They went ahead and countered the truth potion, however, as it could tell them no more than it already had, and they dampened their power to a less suffocating level. No longer feeling as if she were a mouse who'd been pinned to the floor by an enormous cat, she noticed the others around her relaxing as well, the worst part over and done with. Or so she'd thought.

"You have asked your questions of us and received your answers." Narcissa pointed out. "And now we have some questions of our own."

"Ask them, then." Her son replied.

"Is she your lover?" Narcissa asked what had been on all of their minds for days, and they all leaned forward a bit in anticipation of his response. But Draco simply lifted an eyebrow, giving his mother an odd look.

"Are you feeling alright today, mother? We've been with Virginia for months, you know this."

"Yes." Narcissa agreed. "But I'm not speaking of her." She said, and Virginia rose out of her throne in a liquid, graceful movement, her eyes flashing angrily.

"And who else would they be sleeping with, exactly?" She demanded, and Narcissa cocked her head to the side.

"The Patil girl, of course." She said, her blue eyes trailing over to Padma.

"_What_?" All six of those on the dais exclaimed, their impassive masks cracking and revealing their sheer disbelief. They stared at Narcissa as if she'd sprouted a second head and set her hair on fire in the process, and Virginia sank bonelessly back into her throne, her mouth hanging open the tiniest bit. Narcissa fidgeted minutely.

"Well, you can't blame me for _asking_." She huffed. "I know you didn't exchange gifts with her at the ball, but we didn't know if you'd just wanted to keep it quiet."

"I can't fucking believe this." Blaise murmured. "And who is 'we'?" No one spoke, but all donned guilty expressions. "Are you telling me that _all_ of you have been sitting around, pondering our love lives?" Again, no one said anything.

"Fabulous." Draco sneered. "I'm so very glad that we've given you ample fodder for rumors and speculation on something that is _none of your goddamned business_."

"And even if it _were_," Blaise added, his tone menacing, "which it is _not_, what difference would it make if we'd decided to take a bloody _Dementor_ to our bed? Would you gossip about _that_ as well?"

"Apparently so." Virginia hissed when the silence stretched on. "They seem to view our love as weak and shallow, open and flexible, since we number three instead of two. What difference would a forth make then, hmm? Isn't that what you've all been thinking?" At that point, no one could have met her eyes had they wished to, which they didn't. Amazing, it was, how quickly their curiosity had turned to shame.

"Well," Draco said, his voice much, much too quiet and calm, "I cannot express how happy it makes me to know that you all think so little of us as to assume that we would forsake our devotion to one another in such a way."

"It wouldn't be very surprising." Ron mumbled, obviously still angry that his mother had forced him to take the Veritaserum, and six sets of piercing eyes landed on him at once. He flinched back from their acidic glares, his freckles standing out darkly as the blood drained from his face.

"Watch your tongue." The twins warned, looking about a second away from springing and ripping it out themselves. Ron shook his head, and when he responded, his eyes looked much younger than usual, as if he were but a child again.

"Why are you even up there with them?"

"Because it's where we belong." The twins said in unison, their dark blue eyes lit up with certainty.

"You belong with your family!" Ron insisted.

"Where do you think we are?" They mocked, and his face fell. "And out of the others in this room that we also call family, you are not one of them."

"This is ridiculous!" Ron said once he'd found his voice again, the 'little brother' look gone and replaced with something cruel. "I don't know what lies they've filled your heads with, what false promises they've made you, but it's quite clear that they're lying again now! They have to be fucking her, or they wouldn't have let her get so close so fast! What else could do that but the drugging lust that they're infamous for?" He obviously hadn't been informed of Padma's Mark.

"_Silence_." Draco commanded, slamming a hand down on the arm of his throne, the heavy, stifling feeling of raw power descending on the room's occupants once more. "I will say this once and once only, and I swear that if I hear another word about it, the speaker will be _beyond_ sorry. Neither Blaise, Virginia nor I will _ever_ take another lover. Padma means the world to us, but we do not crave her flesh, nor does she crave ours. We will protect her, fight for her, cherish her, but we will never bed her. Our souls are tied with hers, but our hearts have long been given fully to each other and _only_ to each other. We have no room or passion left within them to spare for anyone else, nor would we wish to."

"Come." Blaise said after a moment, rising and speaking to the others on the dais with him, ignoring the chastised faces of those in front of him. They rose at his summons, looking affronted and insulted, and Virginia asked a last, stinging question before they swept out of the room too fast for anyone else's eyes to follow.

"Are you satisfied?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Please reviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreview (takes deep breath) reviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreviewreview! I _live_ for them!


	23. Revelations and Veiled Visions

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to reviewers: tkmoore**, you're gonna kill me, yet love me at the same time. (smirks and runs away) **jenn**, x-mas break just got even _more_ interesting…lol **brattykid89**, thanks so much! and thanks for the awesome long review, too! **beautiful-exterior**, thank you!! **Haunted-Shadows**, (eagerly awaiting fanart) love ya!! **Tytianne**, yes, it made sense! and thanks! **seri-chan**, thanks! love ya and your reviews!! **a.sam**, thank you so much! that means a lot to me! I'm glad you enjoy it! **entrancer**, (clears throat) harry asked parvati after ginny said she was going with neville, and parvati got padma to go with ron, then harry and ron ignored them all night. thanks for the review! **babykelyse**, thanks! :) **fallen**, started in draco's POV, just for you! :) **iamaiceskater08**, thanks, and yeah, someone told me that a few chappies ago, lol. :) **aoi-yuki-yume**, I want any fanart at all! THANKS! **power** **of the stars**, (cackling) omg! your review almost _killed_ me! lol **ForeverLoyal**, THANKS!! **el** **chikita**** joules**, thanks, darling! hope this was quick enough for your tastes! **Danni is Divine, James is Mine**, eep! maybe you'll be satisfied soon, lol. :) **TarynMalfoy88**, soon enough? lol **sillysun**, you rock more! love ya! **Aubryawna**, you are completely forgiven. Hospital drugs are wicked evil, lol. thanks for the loooong review! I loved it! **candace1989**, (blushes) thanks! **SkotosEnigma**, AHH! (drools over fanart) I love you! **Crimson**, thank you! **Chaney**, glad you liked that. :) **Texas Goddess**, hope this was soon enough! **Georgentosser**, I like Padma too. She's awesome. :) **madcow**, you're just the best! thanks! **short** **arse**, yes, yes they did, lol. **gin**** rose raposo1**, thanks again!!!! **Serena**, umm, sure, I guess, lol. **Iced Faerie**, you'll find out soon enough! thanks for reviewing! **kia**, fast enough? lol **sarah**, thanks! **frekkle** **speckled**, thanks! I really liked your stuff too! **jen**, there might be, lol. **Trang**, thanks, hope this was quick enough! **mz.sammiz**, lol, thanks! **chrissyangel**, thanks! you keep reading, and I'll keep writing, lol. **nancy**, thanks, I will! **kayla**, umm…right, okay. uh…thanks. I think. **dancingirl**, thanks!!!! **me**, thanks, glad you liked the last line! **Sunday-Morning**, thank you so much!! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thanks, as usual!! **Pyro89**, thanks! **moon-spirit11**, THANK YOU!! **Lithui**, thanks, and I'd love to read your stuff! **musiclover86**, oooh, you're just so awesome for always reviewing! love ya! **Psi**, as always, thank you!!

**Side Note 1.) **A little over a week ago, I heard that I won the Best Romance: Unconventional Pairing Award, at the Twisted Colours Awards! You can see the award at the Twisted Colours website, or email me and I'll send it to you.

**Side Note 2.)** Fanart for this story had been done by the awesome **SkotosEnigma**, and you can see it at the following address. There are two pics on the site, one labeled 'Cocidius's Chosen' and one named 'Padma: Cocidius's Chosen'. So go check it out and her know what an awesome job she did! (Okay, I did put a link in here, but it's not showing up. If you want to see her stuff, go to deviantART and search for 'Morganofthedark', or email me and I'll send you a proper link, lol.)

**Author's Note:** A special thanks to all of those who have risen to the fanart challenge, it is much appreciated! If anyone else who is interested, just let me know!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco and Blaise had found their plans to leave later that night ruined an hour or two before dinner, when a house elf had appeared with a letter in hand, sealed by the British Minister of Magic. It had been addressed to both them and Virginia, and had told them that their presence was requested at the Ministry at their earliest convenience. Thinking it something important, and more than likely something that they were going to have to buy or force their way out of, they had left a little while later. They hadn't rushed, but they hadn't taken too long about it either, wanting to get it over with. And any excuses to blow it off would have looked odd, so away they went.

And what a farce it had been. They had, to their surprise and suspicion, been greeted jovially, and ushered straight to Cornelius Fudge. The fact that the man was still in office only solidified their lack of faith in the Ministry. Useless bunch of nosy shits, if you asked Draco. And Cornelius Fudge was the worst among them. The man had been in their families' pockets for years, and still was. He'd fawned all over them most pathetically when they'd entered his office, before doing the same to Virginia, heaping her in compliments and congratulating her on her family's return to high society. The look she'd given him had been beautifully venomous, and he'd finally gotten to the point.

The stupid fool had wanted to surprise them. He thought they'd be _pleased_ to have a ceremony imposed on them without any notice whatsoever. A ceremony for what, you might ask? To award them their Order of Merlin: First Class medals, which they'd been deemed worthy of after the incident at Hogwarts. The only small comfort they'd had was that their friends and families hadn't been there to witness it. The ceremony had been pompous and utterly cliché, and the Ministry officials attending it so scared, yet so unfalteringly polite, that it had been hard not to laugh in their faces and show them a good curse or two.

Not to say that they hadn't gotten their revenge for the whole mess, that damn article included. Fight for the Light. What a bunch of rubbish. Just because they refused to kneel at a halfblood's feet (the very idea made him slightly ill), did not mean that they planned to help people they despised fight some stupid war that they couldn't honestly give a fuck about. All they cared for was keeping Virginia and their friends safe. If Voldemort forced them into battle over that issue then so be it, but they wouldn't take the chance of dying for people that acted so pristine and refined in public, but that would stab you in the back as quickly as those who saw no point in hiding what they were.

At least he could respect those who were open about the fact that they wouldn't think twice about killing you or fucking you over, should they have the chance. It was those who hid the selfish, self-preserving side within themselves, a side that everyone possessed, that he despised. Because when it came down to it, wasn't that what it was all about? Preserving that which meant the most to you, preserving that which you believed unerringly in? And the officials at that damned ceremony had been exactly the kind that he could barely stomach to be around without wishing to end their miserable lives for them. Simpering, weak fools, every one of them.

And simpering, weak fools had always brought out their depraved side.

Virginia hadn't asked any questions when they'd both excused themselves to go to the loo, but she'd given them a very knowing glance and shaken her head in resignation, a small smile quirking her lips. Snickering to themselves once they shielded themselves inside the tile room, they'd quickly called in everything that they'd thought they would need for their little scene, barely able to restrain their mirth when they'd rejoined the others. Virginia had played along superbly, even though she'd been perfectly aware that they were up to something that was more than likely going to cause quite a bit of a fuss. Hell, that was probably _why_ she'd played along.

"Virginia?" Blaise had asked innocently ten or fifteen minutes later, and she'd turned, bestowing him with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, darling?"

"Would you like something to drink? I was just going to get myself and Draco a glass of that appealing-looking wine." He'd said smoothly, and she'd nodded gratefully.

"Oh, that would be _wonderful_, dear. Do hurry, though. You know I just can't _stand_ to be away from you for long." She'd replied in her best pleading-girlfriend voice, amusement dancing in her dark eyes if you knew how to read them.

Blaise had given her a small, proper bow before gliding toward the drink table, acting completely oblivious of the eyes that followed him from all over the room. He'd poured three tall wine glasses and headed back towards them, and it had begun. Winding through the circular tables that crowded the room, the others had only seen a woman suddenly stand, her chair hitting Blaise in the knees and causing him to fall. Draco and Virginia, however, had seen him plan the move from over ten feet away when he'd noticed that she was about to rise. Wine had flown everywhere, conveniently not getting so much as a drop on Blaise's immaculate robes while splashing all over quite a few others.

"Sweet Hera!" The woman who thought she'd knocked him over had exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear. "Lord Zabini, are—are you alright!?" She'd stammered, dropping to her own knees beside him immediately when she'd noticed Draco and Virginia moving towards them. Blaise had been holding a black-nailed hand to his head, which had looked to those closest as if he'd hit it against one of the tables during his fall. He was quite the actor when he wished to be.

"Non, I don't think I am." He'd said woozily, letting his midnight blue eyes mist over and appear unfocused, much to the woman's alarm. Draco and Virginia had come upon them then, the crowd that had sprung up around Blaise parting to let them through, and they'd kneeled beside their lover as well. ((No))

"Oh, Blaise, speak to me, honey!" Virginia had crooned, apparently quite the actress herself. She'd caught on quickly to their game and had decided to play along, even though she hadn't known exactly what they were doing. Another wonderful part of the many intriguing aspects that made up the complex and crafty Virginia Weasley.

"Lord Zabini!?" The woman had called again, her voice frantic at that point as all sorts of horrible repercussions had run through her head. It hadn't helped in the least to ease her panic when Blaise had pulled his hand away and his ivory skin had been stained with blood, his black hair sticky with it. Gasps had broken out around them, low murmurs running through the assembly, and the woman had been on the verge of fainting.

"I'll be fine." Blaise had insisted, taking Draco's offered hand and rising to his feet with them.

He'd swayed a bit for added drama, and that's when it had happened. Something long, thick and slimy had slid out of one of his deep pockets, hitting the granite floor with a wet 'splat'. The people that had been surrounding them had grown silent as they'd stared and tried to figure out exactly what they were seeing. It had fallen in a small, coiled pile, and wasn't the most easily identifiable thing to an untrained, mortal eye. That had been Draco's cue to help them along a bit, and he'd sighed exasperatedly before bending down and picking the section of goat intestine up off the floor. Then he'd laid his free hand on Blaise's shoulder and spoken gently, yet firmly.

"Blaise, what did we tell you about leaving things like this at home?" He'd asked, waving the piece of intestine for emphasis. Quite a few people had jumped back, looking aghast, but they had been far from done.

"It's mine, damn it!" Blaise had complained, acting as if were going to snatch it back. Draco had moved to the side nimbly, avoiding his bloody, grasping hand and tsking.

"You know what our mothers said!" He'd told him, dropping his voice to a low, yet carrying, whisper. "They said to leave our toys at home and quit scaring the muggle-lovers! You didn't bring anything _else_, did you?"

"You're one to talk, Draco!" Blaise had argued, ignoring his last question. "You carry more around with you than I do! Remember that time in Bordeaux? Thank the gods we were in France!"

"I can't believe you'd bring _that_ up _now_." Draco had hissed, shooting a glare at the gawking Ministry officials. "How was I supposed to know that old hag would try and rob me? The bitch ripped my pockets open. It wasn't _my_ fault."

"Oh, no." Blaise had sneered nastily. "Nothing's ever a _Malfoy's_ fault, is it?"

"Don't get me started on _blame_, Zabini!" Draco had countered, waving the intestine around wildly. People had gone from disgusted and appalled to terrified as Draco and Blaise had appeared to become angrier and angrier, and their fear had spiced the air deliciously.

"S'il vous plait!" Virginia had cut in, her face a flawless mask of worry and apprehension. "Stop this! It does not matter, truly. Come, can we not find some accord? Blaise, if you'd just leave your souvenirs at hom—" ((Please!))

"That's what I'm talking about!" Blaise had cut her off, looking furious. Not to mention more than a little mad, what with his head having been split open (by a nail, not some stupid, flimsy table) and leaking a stream of blood steadily. "It's always '_Blaise, don't try that on the house elves!_', '_Blaise, don't terrorize the Hufflepuffs!_', '_Blaise, I'd really rather you didn't kill all of our friends' dogs!_' Blaise, Blaise, Blaise! Does he _ever_ get accused of that shit? No! He's just a pretty, perfect, Malfoy brat!"

"You forgot '_Blaise_, _don't bring_ body parts _with you in_ public!'" Draco had snapped, and quite a few of the watching people had whimpered at the words 'body parts'. Instead of replying, Blaise had given him a last, enraged glare, before reaching out and ripping the front of Draco's pockets open. Numerous animal (although those watching didn't know that) organs spilled out, little bits of blood spraying the shoes of those closest as they'd tumbled to the floor, and horrified shrieks had split the sir. No one had moved, though, as if they'd been frozen in place, every eye locked onto the pile of fleshy tissue. Blaise, naturally, had broken the silence that had fallen shortly after the screams had stopped.

"Oops. Paint me purple and call me a _hag_. I'm just _so_ sorry about that, love." He'd said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. They'd planned to just leave then, but Virginia had added an unthought-of element. No wonder they loved her so much.

"Well," she'd sighed, bending down and scooping up a gytrash heart off the floor delicately. "I just wish you wouldn't waste perfectly good food." A second later, sharp deadly fangs had pierced the heart's left ventricle, and a single trickle of blood had oozed out the side of her mouth as her eyes had turned utterly black. The people had found their feet then, and nearly every person in the room had turned and bolted. Unable to restrain themselves any longer, they'd all burst out laughing, the heart dropping from Virginia's fingers to join its comrades on the ground.

"Oh gods." Virginia had gasped once their snickers had finally started to abate. "There really _is_ a difference in taste. No wonder we don't feed on animals."

"I can't believe you did that!" Draco had said, fixing his pockets with a quick repairing spell. "It was perfect!"

"It'll definitely give them something to write about." Blaise had agreed, healing the small cut on his head with barely more than a thought.

There had only been a handful of people left in the room, and every one of them had been people that they knew, and that had been at their Yule Ball. Most were smirking heavily, knowing full and well what they'd just done and finding it quite hilarious. One man had broken away from the small group and come towards them, his eyes scanning the doorway that Aurors had been sure to pour through soon, his right hand clutching his wand. He was tall and dark-haired, his eyes as hazel as his son's, and he carried himself proudly, as befit a wizard of his bloodline. His handsome face had been blank as he approached them, but his eyes had been lit mischievously.

"My lords, my lady." He'd greeted, giving them a courtly bow. "I suppose I should simply be grateful that my son was not with you for this little…escapade?"

"Please, Aldis." Blaise had intoned sarcastically. "We couldn't have drug Anton away from Pansy so soon after their engagement even if the world had been about to implode."

"You might not be too far off." Aldis McGregor had replied, all humor gone from his gaze. "Come with me, even I can hear the Aurors coming." He'd suggested, and they'd complied, bolting from the room and leaving the mess on the floor for the Aurors to analyze.

Let the bastards figure out on their own that the organs were only potion ingredients, rather than the people-pieces they so wanted them to be. They'd twisted through a few different corridors, avoiding other witches and wizards as best they could until they'd gotten to Aldis's office. He was the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and the only reason he'd taken the job when it had been offered was because he enjoyed working with the Invisibility Task Force so much. He liked almost nothing better than erecting whole new wizarding towns in the center of muggle ones, with none of the 'magicless sods', as he fondly referred to them, having any idea about it at all.

And his dislike of muggles, which was quite understandable, was what had first convinced him to follow a mad, brilliant man that had claimed to be a pureblood and had sworn that he would stop the slowly encroaching dilution of the bloodlines. He hadn't, though, as his madness had outweighed his brilliance, and still did. Voldemort was anything but rational. But some of the purebloods had listened to him, had joined him, and at first, it had been because they had believed in the cause that he promoted. Voldemort had treated his Death Eaters fairly at first, and they hadn't even been _called_ Death Eaters in the beginning. They'd been the Revisionists.

They'd been young, their heads full of revolution and revitalization, and they'd dreamed of restoring their people to their old honor, their old glory. They'd dreamed of erasing the black scar that had been left by the Gods' Abandonment, of destroying the sick, festering wound of the Inquisition and the Burning Days. But the more power Voldemort had gained, the more his lunacy had become apparent. That's when Lucius and Jeran had discovered his secret. Voldemort was no pureblood, but the half-breed bastard of a worthless muggle. They had confronted the Dark Lord, after having told only a few select people, Aldis among them.

Their decision to go in that room that day, accusations pouring from their lips like acid, had changed the fate of everyone. Voldemort had panicked, seeing his downfall as his powerful friends had turned their backs on him, and he had called on the Bane. The full force of its tainting effects had been focused on Lucius and Jeran, but the others of the first, second and third circles that had been there that fateful day had also been twisted to different degrees. That unleashing had birthed the first of many Dark Marks, had branded pure skin and twisted pure flesh until it was blackened and smoking, a vile sacrilege against their gods and their beliefs.

Voldemort had no longer ruled out of fairness after that, but had learned to wield his favorite weapon of all in order to control those that he'd once called friend and brother. Fear. Their names had changed, their purpose had changed, and they had lost all sense of themselves, of who they truly were. Any lingering honor and glory vanished, their cunning minds dulled and their ambitions thwarted beyond serving their new master's whims. Those in the first circle, the elite of the elite, had been the only ones to escape Voldemort's regular punishments, and a few of them had started to remember after a long while, had started to break through the diseased fog clouding their minds.

That remembrance had nearly broken them, as they'd seen what they'd become. Slaves to a mudblood, the ancient pride of their families shattered every time they kneeled. It had been too much for many of them, and they'd spent days, weeks, trying to scrub and cut the foul Marks from their bodies, trying anything they could to cleanse themselves while begging their gods and their ancestors alike for forgiveness. They hadn't succeeded, of course, as the Mark would be there permanently, even if it was carved out with the sharpest of knives. And who knew if they had been forgiven? They hadn't thought so, and so they'd taken their last stand.

Some of their number hadn't broken free of the Bane's hold, a few because it was too strong, and a few because they didn't wish to. Those who had, though, had gotten together and planned their largest deception, their last great act before their deaths, or so they'd thought. With sly whispers and returned cunning, they had egged the Dark Lord on harder than ever before, increasing his belief in the rumors surrounding the Potter boy. Then one night, their pushing had reached its peak when Pettigrew came through. The rat had used a compulsion charm made by the best among them, and had secured his place as the Potters' Secret-Keeper.

Voldemort, blinded by what he assumed would be an easy victory, had been careless, and his vengeance-seeking Death Eaters had taken their opportunity. A curse had been cast upon his wand, undetectable until it was too late, and three of their number had perished in its making. It had been set to go off the next time he turned his wand on a creature that was purely innocent, and Harry Potter had been that creature. Both would have died had everything gone according to plan, but Voldemort would have been dead, _truly_ dead. They had not counted on Lily invoking an old, forgotten form of protection, one that, while saving Harry, had also saved the Dark Lord.

Victorious and yet defeated, the Death Eaters had retreated, going back to their estates and preparing themselves for the trials they'd known were coming. Turning on many, but not all, of those still mad from the Bane's influence, they'd secured and kept their places in society, waiting and watching, knowing Voldemort still lived somewhere, someway. Draco and Blaise's mothers had explained all of this to them in whispers and dark rooms after their forth year, when the Dark Lord had been resurrected. Far from their husbands' all-hearing ears, they'd lifted their sleeves and shown their sons the filthy, blasphemous brands on their pale skin, had shown them their disgrace.

Neither Draco nor Blaise had ever been more disgusted or ashamed in their entire lives.

They hadn't spoken a word to anyone else for weeks after that, trying to absorb what they'd been told, what they had seen. It had seemed impossible at first, for how could such strong, dark, pureblooded witches and wizards ever bow to a mudblood? How had they been able to stomach groveling at one's feet? How could they have disrespected the gods in such an unthinkable way? For millennia, their families had stood strong, so what had happened? Then, one night when Lucius and Jeran had come home after a meeting with their returned Lord, drunk and loud and angry, they had realized how. Their fathers were simply weak, infected, rotten.

They had suspected before, of course, having seen the differences in the way they were raised compared to the way some of their friends' had been, but it hadn't become so crystal clear until that night. Their fathers had told them many things about the Dark Lord's plans, as they had been bent on having them join him, and they had listened carefully. Many of his old Death Eaters had gone back to him, not really having a choice since he _was_ a Dark Lord, after all, but their fathers' had ranted ceaselessly about how so many of them just didn't have their hearts in it anymore. Not that surprised, the wheels had already started turning on how Draco and Blaise could use that to their advantage.

And use it they had. Throwing themselves into their studies even more, they'd quickly outstripped even their fathers in their spellwork, and had proven themselves on their sixteenth birthdays, dueling in front of an assembly of the gathered nobility. Talk had started then, rumors abounding about how powerful they had become, and eight months later, their fathers were mysteriously dead and they the sole heirs to everything. Using the time immediately afterwards well, they had had contacted those in the first and second circles who their mothers had told them were part of the last rebellion. And so were born their spies, Aldis McGregor included.

And now, seated across from him on a soft, black leather couch, they waited for his news.

"There has been much brewing at Nor Gorgun these last few nights." Aldis said, referring to the Dark Lord's fortress. The room had been shielded by Draco and Blaise ages ago, to ensure that what was discussed privately inside it _stayed_ private.

"Really? Upset his little stunt in Paris didn't work out, is he?" Draco asked, a cruel smirk on his icy lips. Aldis gave the barest of nods.

"You could say that." The man agreed. "Has Badru given you my latest missive?"

"We haven't spoken to him since the Yule Ball." Blaise replied, while Draco leaned over and discreetly washed the drying blood from his hair with his fingertips. _These new Elemental tricks are quite useful_, he thought idly, waiting for Aldis to continue.

"Someone, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, has been giving the Dark Lord information about you, and he's become more obsessed with every new thing that he learns. He wants the two of you to join him, no matter the cost, and he wants to break you before admitting you into his ranks. But the reason I needed to talk to you now is because of what I heard the Dark Lord speaking to…_someone_ about. I'm not sure who, or if there was really even anyone else there, because I never heard anyone else talking. He's been doing that for a while now; talking to shadows and empty rooms." The older wizard told them, his face grave.

"And what did you hear?" Virginia questioned, causing his familiar eyes to drift to her.

"I can now confirm that he has not regained his full power." Aldis said, and all three of them sat up straighter, their full attention on the man in front of them. "To do so, he needs a key. A key that he himself made years ago, when he suspected treachery. It was put inside a treasure of his, one of his greatest works. That treasure was destroyed, and the key switched hosts."

"And does he know where this key is now?" Blaise asked, the dark purple flecks in his cerulean eyes becoming more vivid.

"Oh, yes." Aldis said, and they didn't like the disquieting glint in his eyes. "He most certainly does. But _you_ possess it." They froze.

"Do we? And how is that?" Draco finally demanded, and the other wizard fidgeted suddenly, as if this were the part that he hadn't wanted to talk about.

"Because _she_ is the key." Aldis finally said, nodding at Virginia.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy checked the time again, wondering what was keeping her friends at the Ministry for so long. She was less than a minute from flooing Satordi and going down there herself, when Draco, Blaise and Virginia slid out of the fireplace. She knew instantly that something was wrong, as Draco and Blaise looked utterly furious, and Virginia was paler than usual, her eyes wide with disbelief. Pansy and Anton stood, going to them immediately, while Draco went straight for the liquor cabinet. One bottle was tossed at Blaise, another at Virginia, and a third disappeared down Draco's throat in record time. Yes, something was definitely wrong.

"What happened?" Anton asked, checking them over quickly for any injuries. When he found them hale and whole, he asked again. Instead of responding, Draco walked to one of the controlling plaques on the study's far right wall, slicing his hand and laying it palm down before speaking words that had them going on guard instantly.

"Activate the main wards and start locking-down." He said, and the stones of the Manor grumbled in response. His next words ran through the stone, reaching every ear on the grounds in a widening circle. "Everything on two legs is to be inside the Wall within a half hour. The floo will not be accessible, and all owls will stay grounded until further notice. The border guard is to be doubled immediately, and I want half of the Dementors and the Nundu inside the Wall as well. The house elves are released from the ties on their defense magic until I say otherwise, and I want the heads of both covens in my study as soon as possible. Everything else with fangs and claws are to patrol outside the Wall and raise the alarm at the first sign of anything suspicious. Seal the main gate and the Sea Gate; loose the dragons and release the mer-riders and their hunting sharks. Nothing comes in and nothing goes out. Kill any that attempt either one. I repeat, you have half an hour."

Then he fell onto one of the green divans, summoning another bottle of liquor as his lovers fell down beside him. Pansy and Anton stared, speechless for a long moment, before they both fell onto one of the plush cushions. A full minute didn't pass before Padma and the twins were bursting in the door, rushing to the others at once and dropping to their knees on the rug in front of them. The leaders of the pride of great cats, Letalis and his mate, Nakira, came in at their heels, their oldest male cub bounding along behind them and leaping straight into Virginia's lap, where it always seemed to be happiest. Another minute passed, and Narcissa, Silana, Severus, Sirius and the Weasleys poured in as well.

"What's going on? Is someone going to attack?" Narcissa demanded, before catching sight of her son and his lovers, who were slowly but surely getting themselves as drunk as possible. "What on earth…Is that—is that _firewhiskey_!?"

"How very observant of you, Mother." Draco replied dryly, his mercury eyes still angry even as they started to glaze.

"Why are you locking the Manor down? What's happening?"

"Nothing." He said, and she looked confused before he added, "Yet, that is."

"Would you quit speaking in riddles and tell me what in the hell's going on?" She asked, and he and Blaise both laughed, a slightly hysterical note in their velvety tones. Melody, Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle entered the room unnoticed by most, and the same Nundu that had stayed in Draco's room after the Paris incident paced in afterwards. It went straight to Draco and Blaise and nuzzled their hands, its jaw tightly shut so as not to harm anyone with its poisonous breath, before it curled up at their feet in an enormous pile of spotted fur.

"We are being hunted." Blaise said in a lilting, singsong voice, downing another half a bottle of the potent alcohol. Everyone grew completely silent at those words, and some had looks of shock crossing their faces, others dawning realization.

"By whom?" Silana finally asked, even though her eyes said she already knew.

"Who do you think? But we," he motioned to himself and Draco, "are more like an added bonus should he succeed in his main quest." Something in his voice made the hairs on the back of Pansy's neck stand up, and she clutched Anton's hand tightly in her own.

"His 'main quest'? What is that beyond his yearning for domination?" Silana questioned, looking at her son. But Virginia was the one who answered her.

"Me." She said, giggling slightly as she, too, poured more liquor down her throat. Feeling as if she were suffocating, Pansy could do nothing but listen as she explained. "I just had to write in that damned diary, you see. His _key_." She spat out the last word, not seeming to see her family and friends' appalled looks.

"'His key'? Baby, what are you talking about?" Molly asked, beginning to look truly scared, as if her worst fear was coming to fruitation right before her eyes.

"What I mean, mummy dearest, is that he _needs_ me, needs my blood. His diary was his key to a piece of his power that he locked away, and when the diary was destroyed, I became the key's new host since I was bound to the book by then, bound to _him_." She said, and Molly swayed, Bill and Arthur barely catching her before she hit the floor. They sat her gently in a chair, looking shell-shocked themselves, and no one spoke for a tense, strained moment.

Then, "So is he coming?" Daphne asked, her soft voice seeming unbearably loud in Pansy's pounding head.

"It's doubtful." Blaise said, opening yet another bottle of firewhiskey. "But then again, he's fucking bonkers, so who knows? He might try his luck. But even he can't get to us here." A knock sounded outside, before a banshee and a hag both came in the door, their statures regal and their eyes feral, bristling at whatever threat to their home had their masters tightening the security even more than it usually was.

"You called?" The hag questioned in a raspy voice, and Draco nodded.

"Fan the covens out through the Manor and contact your sisters at Tenebre Stella. It's to be locked down as well, along with the other estates. Secure Willow Bright while you're at it; that damn article comes out tomorrow." He said, and they left immediately while his hand wrapped itself in Virginia's crimson hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand was clasped in Blaise's, and she moved her legs up onto his lap as she pulled a slim, silver case out of her pocket, causing the cat on her lap to leap lightly to the floor and curl up underneath her. A small, black cigar seemed to light itself when she took a heavy drag off the end, and scented smoke was rushing from between her lips a few long seconds later. Bill was the first to comment, as the others seemed to either understand or just not notice.

"Ginny, when did you start smoking?" He inquired, just a hint of disapproval in his big-brother tone.

"When I snagged these from Sirius on our way to the Ministry earlier." She clarified, and Pansy managed a small smile when she saw Sirius pat his pocket and then groan. "I just knew today was going to be completely fucked."

"_Ginny_." He stressed, glancing at their semi-aware mother to see if she'd noticed the girl's less-than-polite language. "And you really shouldn't. It's a bad habit." He said once he turned back to her, and Virginia laughed.

"Why?" She asked, taking another deep drag and a long swig off of Blaise's bottle. "I'm a witch; it's not like they'll turn my teeth yellow or give me nasty muggle breath. And they're definitely not going to kill me. No, I'm almost positive at this point that my death is destined to be violent and bloody. Interesting possibilities there, don't you think?" She questioned, and Bill, Charlie, Ron and her father looked at her as if she'd gone mad, while her friends and the twins said nothing.

"Don't talk that way, Ginny." Her mother mumbled, sitting up straighter. "Don't talk about dying as if it were a joke."

"You're right, Mother, as usual. I'm going to live forever." Virginia intoned, her voice slightly off and just a bit spooky. She and her boyfriends were quite wasted at that point, and Pansy was beginning to worry just what they might get careless enough to say. Or do. In fact, it would probably be best to get them away from anyone whose sensibilities were easily horrified as soon as possible.

"Ginny—" Her mum started, but Virginia cut her off, giggling again and accidentally incinerating her cigar, the whole thing falling to ash in her fingers.

"No, really, Mum." She insisted, and Pansy groaned inwardly. "I'm going to live forever and ever as long as Tom doesn't get me."

"_Ginny_! Don't say that nam—" Her father began to berate, but Molly waved him silent, looking at her daughter strangely.

"No one lives forever, honey." Her mother said gently, obviously thinking that Virginia was in shock. And maybe she was. The alcohol wasn't helping, at any rate. But who were they to deny her and her lovers a drink? _They_ weren't being hunted by a Lord of the Dark, after all.

"Oh, but _I_ will." Virginia crooned, sliding off her boyfriends and to her feet. She barely made it to her mother without falling, and she dropped cross-legged to the floor, somehow still graceful even while smashed. Blaise's bottle was still in her hand, not that it mattered since he'd long since gotten another.

"What are you talking about, Ginny?" Molly asked, and her daughter smiled, lifting one hand and running a finger along her mother's cheek before letting her hand drop back to her side. Another goodly portion of the alcohol she was holding disappeared, and she sat the bottle to the side.

"I can heal almost _anything_ now, mama." Virginia said, and she had that dark glint in her eyes that Pansy knew could be leading nowhere good. "You wanna see?" Nowhere good at _all_. She shared a quick look with Padma and the twins, and saw their helpless, slightly amused looks. Draco and Blaise simply watched Virginia, their eyes never leaving her for the barest moment.

"See _what_, baby?" Molly questioned, her eyebrows knitting together in a concern. But Virginia just smiled again, took out her boot knife in the blink of an eye, and impaled her right hand with it. Pansy moaned and covered her eyes. Fabulous. Absolutely bloody _fabulous_. Letting her hand fall away, she watched her best friend pull the knife out smoothly while her mother, her father and three of her brothers watched in complete stupefaction.

"What the _fuck_, Ginny—" Ron started, but a glare from her stopped him from finishing.

"Was I _talking_ to you, snake boy? I didn't think so." She said dismissively, unmindful of her bleeding hand. Turning back to her mother, she frowned when she saw her face.

"What's wrong, Mum?"

"What's _wrong_!? Ginny, your hand—!"

"But I told you, I can heal it." She said, tilting her head to the side and regarding her mother with eyes that kept focusing and unfocusing. Her mother grew still, looking right back at her daughter, and something seemed to dawn on her.

"Doesn't it hurt?" She asked softly, staring at the wounded hand. Pansy was slightly surprised the woman hadn't grabbed it and demanded to see, huffing and fussing like she normally would have.

It probably had something to do with the circumstances and the wild, yet serene (_thank you, Padma_, Pansy thought absently), look in her daughter's eyes. Glancing back at Blaise and Draco, Pansy saw the same in theirs, but more. That fierce, deadly fury was still raging underneath the surface, and she realized that Padma was doing her damnedest to leash it, her own eyes glazed in concentration. Sirius seemed to be watching the same thing Pansy was, and she saw him get up and go sit by Draco and Blaise, whispering something to them in a low, deep voice. They might have been listening, but their gazes never left their girlfriend, as if they feared that she would disappear.

"Hurt?" Virginia asked, sounding confused for a moment. "No, mama, it doesn't hurt. It's nice, in a way." Tears sprang up in Molly's eyes, and she watched silently as Virginia closed the wound instantly, not so much as the tiniest scar marring her flesh. "See? I told you. You don't have to worry about me anymore." But Molly didn't seem to hear those last words, her gaze still locked on Virginia's hand.

"What have they done to you, baby?" She asked, her voice barely even audible. Pansy stiffened, as did Anton and the twins, while Virginia glanced at her lovers, who said nothing. A thin layer of sweat had broken out across Padma's forehead, and Pansy was starting to get worried.

"Done to me?" Virginia questioned. "They have done nothing except make me whole. It's the shifter blood Cocidius gifted me with that healed me." She said, not lying, but not telling the whole truth either.

"Bullshit." Ron grumbled, and for once, no one shut him up immediately, so he continued. "I don't know what's gotten into all of you lately," he said, glaring at his family, "but you all seem to have forgotten _who and what they are_. I'm the only one around here with any bloody sense anymore, and the fact that you can't see what's right in front of you is scary."

"What are you babbling about now?" Charlie asked, his patience with his youngest brother beginning to wear thin.

"Oh, has the darling princess of our family not told you yet?" Ron asked mockingly, and Pansy felt her sense of unease creep up a notch. Virginia was staring at her brother blankly, and Pansy knew then that Virginia knew exactly what was about to come out of his mouth, and she saw the first bit of hate stir in her best friend's eyes.

"Not told us what?" Bill asked, looking between Ron and Virginia. Ron looked his sister straight in the eyes, hesitated for the briefest moment, and then broke her trust for the final time.

"They're vampires." He said, his voice ringing through the sudden silence. "You've been letting her date bloody fucking _vampires_, and you're asking why she's healing so fast. I would think it was pretty obvious."

"Shut up." Anton hissed, his eyes bright with anger. "Just _shut up_."

"Fuck off, McGregor." Ron spat, his face turning redder by the moment. Virginia continued to stare at him, and he snapped. "_Stop looking at me like that!_ I didn't do _anything_ to you! You brought this on yourself, you bitc—" He never got to finish, as George was just suddenly _there_, his fist slamming into Ron's jaw and sending him flying backwards. Fred and Anton were standing over him a moment later when he landed, his head hitting the stone floor hard.

"One more fucking word." Fred warned. "Just _one more_, and I swear to every god I can name that we'll make you sorry."

"Fred! George!" Arthur exclaimed. "Both of you stop it _right now_! You too, Ronald!"

"I hate you." Virginia's voice sliced through the low noise, and everyone turned to look at her but for Padma and Sirius, both of whom were still caught up in their tasks. But she had eyes only for Ron, who looked back at her through strands of rusty copper hair, his nose busted and his jaw dislocated. There was no Hermione to drop to her knees and heal him immediately this time, and his mother was too distracted and stunned to tear her eyes away from her daughter.

"Ginny…" Molly started, but Virginia wasn't listening.

"I hate you." She repeated, meeting Ron's eyes unflinchingly, her own burning and loathing. "You're sad and deficient, infantile and crude, and I find you quite pathetic. It shall be a joy to me when I no longer have to see you again, and I shall revel in your absence. I resent you more than Percy, you know. At least he had the balls to try what he did. And then he died. But you…You're a living, breathing nightmare that won't seem to fade. The fact that we share blood sickens me."

Silence. And then someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." Narcissa called, and a smirking banshee sauntered in, giving Narcissa a sweeping curtsey before speaking.

"The Hunted One has been found and brought within the Wall as ordered for all two-legged creatures. He's still breathing, but I could fix that."

"No, no." Narcissa sighed, and Ron started pulling himself to his feet. His mother finally looked over at him and gasped, motioning him over so she could patch his face up. "Just…take him to his rooms, I suppose. I know Sirius will want to go see him in a bit. Get a house elf to heal anything life-threatening, as well."

"As you say, Lady." The banshee replied, and spun on a heel, leaving and shutting the door behind her once more. Virginia rose to her feet without a word, grabbing the bottle she'd discarded earlier and draining it before walking over to her lovers and Padma. She laid a hand on each of her boyfriends' necks and leaned in, whispering something. Both blinked once, twice, and then moved slowly, as if in a dream, rising to their feet with her. Fred and George went back to Padma's side, helping her to her feet, and she moved with the same unreal quality that Draco and Blaise were.

"What's wrong with them?" Molly asked in a small voice, and her daughter's eyes drifted back to her.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with them." She said, taking her lovers' hands in hers. "Padma's just blocking their rage from spilling over. Be thankful; you would not want them fully active and aware right now."

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." The twins murmured, and those were the last words they heard from them before all six left the room without a backwards glance.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia dreamed. Troubled and tired, she had let herself succumb to a resting repose, something that she rarely did anymore. And now her mind wandered the many paths open to a trained dreamer's mind, but she did not choose any certain image from the swirling mass all around her. She simply let herself float and drift, aware with a foggy perception that would only clear if she allowed herself to fall into one of the many waiting visions and memories. But she stayed still, letting the tide carry her, as she had no heart to choose that night. And carry her it did; past many possible choices and straight down and to the left, throwing her into a well of blackness.

Surfacing, she looked around, her mind as sharp as the colors and sounds around her. She'd come up in a busy kitchen, the people around her speaking in rapid Italian, but no one noticed her. It was only a memory, after all. She looked around for anyone she knew, trying to figure out why she'd been brought to this festive, bustling room, and almost didn't recognize the two little boys harassing the head cook. They were only about six, maybe seven, and one had a black eye, the other a broken arm, but their injuries weren't deterring them from snatching the first of the sweet pastries off the flustered, but smiling, woman's tray.

That fanged smile caught her up short, and she realized that the woman was a vampire. She already knew who the boys were, as no one else had hair in those shades, nor was anyone else sculpted so precisely and perfectly. Yes, her lovers were easily recognizable even when over ten years younger than she was used to. And they were at Tenebre Stella if her suspicions were correct. The vampire leaned over and swatted Draco's wrist when he made for another pastry, and he drew his hand back immediately, his face going blank. The vampire stared for a moment, before grabbing his hand and pulling his long, billowing sleeve up. Burns and cuts and deep scratches littered the snowy skin.

Then Virginia was spinning away, the scene melting and blurring before reshaping itself into something different. She was no longer in the busy kitchen, but in a dark, cellular room that had a single torch flickering on one damp wall. It smelt of must and old blood, and the clinking of chains had her turning to see her lovers again, a little older then a moment ago, probably nine or ten, but they were much worse off. They were bound to the wall with long lengths of davasca, clad only in loose trousers and bruised abrasions. Long, jagged whiplashes stood out, swollen and reeking of infection, and she couldn't even count all of their other injuries.

Both could barely hold their eyes open, their bodies shaking as they fought off the sickness of the festering wounds, and they were barely more than abused skin and broken bones, as if they hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Lucius was standing over them, talking quietly to a house elf that looked slightly rebellious every time it looked at the two boys in chains, and Jeran was fucking some whore in the corner, oblivious to everything but her terrified whimpers and occasional screams. Virginia wanted nothing more than to smash the men's heads open beneath her heel and run to her boyfriends' aid, but she knew she couldn't. So she watched, fighting her revulsion.

"_Out!_" Lucius shouted, and the house elf scampered backwards and disappeared. He turned to her lovers and sneered. "You both disgust me. Look at you! Barely conscious! How do you ever plan to be worth _anything_ if you can't even stand a little demon punishment?"

Neither boy spoke.

"Answer me!" Lucius demanded, and Virginia saw his eyes then, saw that he was just as mad as his mudblood master.

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco, a curse forming on his lips. Somehow, ignoring his own agony, Blaise managed to throw himself in front of Draco before it hit, and she saw why he had when Draco tried to catch him. There was a gaping wound in his side, looking as if he'd been gnawed on, and she could see more of his internal makeup then she'd ever wanted to as he moved his arms and wrapped them around Blaise when the dark-haired boy fell, his small, wasted body convulsing violently as Lucius held the curse steady for another long moment. Forgetting that she was in a dream, Virginia tried to claw out the blond man's eyes only to have her fingers go right through him.

"Love is your weakness, and it shall be your downfall." Lucius said, addressing both boys before calling in another house elf. Jeran gave a loud moan, turning her attention to him as he slit the whore's throat and let her body sink to the dirty floor. She turned back to see her lovers gazing at him, their eyes filled with something dark and slightly insane, and a chill shot down her spine. _So young…_

"Stupid muggle." She heard Jeran scoff, but Lucius's voice drowned out his next words.

"Get them out of my sight." He told the house elf coldly, gesturing to Draco and Blaise. "Take them to the Parkinsons', take them somewhere, _anywhere_, but just get them _away from me_!"

Then her world was changing again, the walls shifting once more and becoming open sky, the grimy floor turning into soft, dewy grass. Fresh, summer-scented air washed over her, a pleasant change from the rank-smelling cell of a moment before. She could hear soft laughter like musical water running over stone, bubbling and content, and she turned slowly, her eyes drinking in the peaceful, happy sight before her. Her lovers were laid out on a thick blanket in the middle of a wooded clearing, and she could just see the Manor's Wall in the distance. Both were smiling, truly smiling, and they were older, fifteen or sixteen, though she was betting on the latter.

An old-fashioned picnic basket sat to one side, its contents spread over half of the large blanket, and in the weak moonlight, all of the food looked to be different shades of gray. Sleeveless robes were discarded next to the forgotten meal, the wine and the strawberries the only things they were paying any attention to besides each other. Blaise was on his back, his raven hair fanned out underneath him and contrasting beautifully with the deep emerald green of the velvet blanket, while Draco was propped up on one elbow beside him, dipping a finger into his wine and tracing shapes and patterns over Blaise's bare chest with it.

The wet fingertip curled over taut muscles and hard nipples, drawing a shiver from Blaise and another laugh from Draco. Their ivory skin practically glowed in the starlight, because for all of Blaise's Italian blood from his father, he'd inherited his mother's fair complexion, and it blended exquisitely with his dark eyes and darker hair. Draco's fingertip changed courses, going back up and then to the side, winding down over his lover's shoulder and coming to stop on the tattoo that bore his name. His smile turning devious and hungry, he drew Blaise up by his hair before the other even knew what was happening, and their lips met with perfect symmetry.

Moving as one, Blaise sat up, putting his back against the nearest tree while Draco slid onto his lap, straddling him and never freeing his lips. Not that he appeared to want them freed. Their lips did separate eventually; Draco's trailing down Blaise's jaw and throat, nipping the skin with sharp teeth, while Blaise popped a strawberry in his mouth, a sly grin spreading across his face before he was moaning, Draco's fingers lightly sketching over his erection through his dragonhide pants. Their mouths met again and Draco's eyes widened before darkening even further and becoming hooded, the sweet taste of each other and the fruit making them both breathless with need.

"See?" A harsh, all-too-familiar voice cut through the calm clearing, shattering the otherworldly quality that things had begun to take on as their passion had rose.

"No." Virginia murmured, beginning to understand where this was going. It was the night their fathers had died, the one memory that she knew held the secret to helping her lovers overcome their twisting hate. But she still didn't know how she could help them in the first place, as her own hate for the men grew with every second.

"I told you they were queers." Jeran continued as he and Lucius materialized out of the tree line. Virginia's lovers drew apart, their lips red and sticky with berry juice, and Draco sighed visibly as he buried his face in Blaise's neck, his silky silver hair falling around them like a curtain. Blaise watched their fathers' approach with charged blue eyes that had gone dead and lifeless, his hands still clutching Draco's hips tightly.

"As if we haven't caught you two shagging each other silly more times than we'd wish to count." He said dully, and his father smiled wickedly.

"Just be happy we haven't developed a taste for _your_ flesh, little one." Jeran replied, and Draco spun off Blaise's lap and into a crouch, growling. "Oooh, you don't like _that_ idea, do you?" The man taunted. "Your repulsion would probably make it worth it."

"Try it and see if you leave with all of your parts intact." Draco snarled, and something in his eyes made Jeran pause.

"What did you two do in Romania?" Lucius demanded. "Besides getting those worthless tattoos?" Draco and Blaise chuckled, a disturbing, baleful mockery of the pure, crystalline laughter of earlier, and the first hint of fear entered their fathers' faces. _Oh_, she thought cruelly, _so they did know, at least somewhat, of just how strong their sons were. They knew that their hold on them would break one day, but they'd hoped to taint them before that could happen. They deserved every bit of what was done to them. I wish I could kill them myself and, not for the first time, I'm actually starting to hope that it _was_ Draco and Blaise that did it._

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her lovers asked in unison, and before she could so much as protest, she was being pulled away again.

_No_, she thought desperately. _No, I have to know, I have to help them!_ But no one listened to her pleas, and she found herself in another room, a small, windowless room that was richly but sparsely furnished. Two figures sat in the corner, covered in dried and congealed blood, and they were cleaning each other off silently. Knowing where they were suddenly, she felt like screaming. _Azkaban_. Oh, they had more room then most, and they were together, but then again, they were billionaires, and therefore treated a bit differently then the others, even during a joint murder case. She moved closer instinctually, wanting so badly to touch them.

"They will force us to take down the aural shields in a moment." Draco said after a while, the towel in his hands brown and dark red from all of the gore he was lethargically and methodically cleaning off of his lover.

"Oui. It won't be safe to speak. I do not wish to anyway." Blaise responded, his own hands moving steadily, his towel just as stained.

"Then we won't." Draco said, and Blaise cocked an eyebrow.

"They will think us guilty if we say nothing."

"They will think us guilty anyway." Draco replied, and Blaise shrugged.

"It matters not to me. The Dementors would not keep us here. And we need no one else but each other." He said, and something flickered through their eyes. Draco voiced the shared thought.

"But the one we dream of…"

"Is a Weasley." Blaise said, his voice turning hard. "She would not look twice at us. She thinks us as corrupted and foul as our fathers, just like everyone else."

"You are right, of course." Draco agreed, and Virginia felt her heart clenching at the confused pain in their eyes. "But…"

"But you cannot help but hope?" Blaise finished for him, and Draco nodded.

"I'm beginning to think that vampire witch has cast a spell on us." Draco said, the towel running over Blaise's left arm. "Why else would we feel such a pull?"

"Does it matter?" Blaise queried. "Perhaps the dreams will stop, perhaps not. In the end, we will always be alone. You know this. You have Seen it. You Saw us meet our end under crushing waves in utter blackness. _Alone_."

"But that was before…"

"I know. But where has hope ever gotten us?"

"Here." Draco said, shaking his head ruefully, his blood-matted hair swinging in thick dreadlocks around him. "Then we will not speak on either subject again, or speak at all the next few days."

"Oui. We shall be silent."

Obscuring fog covered all again, all except her aching heart, and she was dropping, dropping, falling deeper and deeper into _nothing_ so quickly that she would have screamed had she had real lungs. Then her swift descent stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, and she couldn't see or hear anything for an indefinable length of time, suspended in a place of no light and no sound. Then, like the sun cresting the horizon in the morning, she caught a glimpse of spun gold. Cocidius took form in all of his radiant glory, but he didn't seem to notice her. His attention was on the nothing around them, and a voice slid out of that darkness, inky and purring.

"Welcome, Consort."

"You called me, my lady?" Cocidius inquired, sliding closer and closer towards the source of the intoxicating voice.

"I have had a vision." She replied, and Virginia could see her Lord stiffen. "But much remains unSeen by me, and I do not like it. I have called you to tell you of what I _have_ Seen before I submerge myself too deeply into the void for even you to reach me."

"Submerge yourself, my lady?" Cocidius asked. "Whatever for?"

"Because I do not like the fact that I cannot See what will come to pass. It does not bode well, and I mean to find out why. But enough with that. I have Seen the settings for the final confrontation."

"And what of them, my love?" Cocidius questioned, softer that time, and he disappeared into all of that satiny blackness, causing the world to go dark again. But their voices stayed clear, and Virginia knew that the Lady meant for her to hear this. Why, she didn't know, but she _did_ know that she wouldn't be privy to it if the Lady did not desire for her to be.

"Thirteen shall battle once the armies are wasted and through." Twilight's Pride intoned, Her voice becoming heavy and layered with foretelling. "Four Heirs of great families, joined in power, will fight for the preservation of the land and all they love. Four ill-begotten bastards, awoken Dark Lords every one, shall fight against them, matching power for power. Two of those most loyal to each, powerful in their own right and just as vital, will witness all and play their own roles. The Needed One, the intermediary, will make his final choice, and he shall make their number thirteen and cursed, giving one side the strength to defeat the other."

Her voice became disjointed then, thrumming and primal. "Should all go rightly, the Heirs could make the fake Lord no more, should they wish... Conquer the Bane, they could...Four Heirs...Two great friends...Love, death, tears, pain, blood...It will be time for a new era...Time for things to change...The First Born walk the Shadow Realm again, and they could rule it all..."

Falling back up, her head ringing with prophecy, Virginia heard the Lady's voice even out again, but Her next words weren't exactly reassuring.

"That is, of course, if they can all survive long enough to make it to the fight in the first place."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

And the plot thickens…REVIEW!!!! (looks around shiftily before getting on knees) Pleeeeeaaaaaassssse? Pretty, _pretty_ please? As you can see, I'm not above begging for reviews, so please oblige me!


	24. Laurus per Silentium

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, please don't kill me. I had to, after all. (smiles weakly)** cloaked**, dearest! I thought I'd lost you! (sobs) I'm so happy you're back! A lot has happened! Love ya!** Jan**, well, here's the whole, evil chapter. love ya!** jenn**, (gets on knees and praises you for your loooong, lovely review) you're so awesome! thanks!** Catalina Royce**, Cat, darling Cat!Love you, as usual!! **sillysun**, thanks so much! I hope you like this chappie, too!** madcow**, (bows to you) excellent review, as always!** Fallen**, well, now I'm the one on my hands and knees waiting for another review! lol** Sphinxtress**, thanks, you have no idea how much that means to me!** SkotosEnigma**, (patiently waiting for even more beautiful fanart) Anton's dad rocks my socks, too!** GoldHeartSilverTears**, thanks! **Georgentosser**, YOU ARE THE _BEST_! thanks for everything! **Haunted-Shadows**, again: fanart (drools and dies of glee) love you!! **Wicked Not Evil**, yes, it made sense, lol. and thank you! **Lola-Rose**, thank you so much! **Ludra**, I'm really glad you like it, and thanks for the review! **TarynMalfoy88**, here you go! new chappie! **Tytianne**, thanks, as usual!! **moon-spirit11**, no! no nervous breakdowns! here's an early chappie! **musiclover86**, sorry if it was confusing, hopefully things will become clearer in the next few chappies! **babykelyse**, tsk tsk! not doing your studies! LOL **saheel001**, I dream of it too, lol! **Lithui**, thanks! I love you, too! **me**, she not 'more in control', just calmer, earthier. and they were really, really mad. lol **short arse**, and I definitely don't mind you reviewing! :) **gin rose raposo1**, thank you!! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, get interesting? oh, yes, you could definitely say that… **Serena**, sorry, but it was necessary! lol **power of the stars**, thanks! **Psi**, thanks!!!! **jade idolatry**, umm, but they _are_. Draco's purely French, and Blaise is half through his mother, Silana. And they grew up in an entirely French environment because of their mothers. :) **kayla**, umm…thanks again…I think. **satangurl41**, thanks, and I won't say a word…lol **Iced Faerie**, not so much a cliffhanger this time…well, _maybe_. :) **Bungle-in-the-Jungle**, THANK YOU! **Cougar**, yeah, the fanart link wouldn't show up, but thanks to you, I fixed it! :) **sarah**, umm, she just incinerated an entire street…But, yeah, don't worry. She'll get hers, lol. **tcup**, thanks you! **brattykid89**, thanks a lot!!

**Author's Note:** I know I said to act like Book 5 never happened, and I still stand by that, but for one part of this chapter, you'll have to pretend like it did. It's nothing major, just a little something I couldn't help throwing in. For those who've read Book 5, you'll spot it immediately, trust me. For those who haven't, it should still make sense. Okay, now that's over with, here we go!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Lycelle moved her food around on her plate slowly, creating runes with her noodles and trying to make it look like she'd eaten _something_, at least. Pansy's eyes on her told her that she wasn't doing a good enough job at fooling them by far. Sighing, she gave up and sat back, meeting her sister's eyes. Pansy lifted an eyebrow eloquently, looking pointedly at Lycelle's untouched meal. Squirming under her sister's scrutiny, she shrugged, hoping that would be enough to stall any questions. Normally it wouldn't have been, but Anton leaned over, whispering something in her sister's ear that made her eyes light up, and Pansy turned away.

Still slightly unused to the noise in the Great Hall after Yule Break, Lycelle desperately wanted to flee. She had to admit, she'd been on Draco and Blaise's side about coming back. Now _that_ had been a dispute. She'd never seen either of them really yell before, as they usually got quieter and quieter the angrier they got, but they had yelled then. The Manor had been filled with their dark fury, permeated with it, for over a day. They hadn't wanted to risk coming back to Hogwarts, not now that Virginia was the Dark Lord's main target. They had argued and argued, saying it was stupid and would only lead to tragedy and heartbreak. They said they could feel it.

Anton, Crabbe, Goyle and the twins had agreed with them, but the females had refused. Virginia, Pansy, Melody, Daphne, Mira (who'd been back from France), Narcissa, Silana, Molly…All had thought it silly not to go back to Hogwarts, and had said that they were just being over-protective, paranoid males. That hadn't sat well with the said males at all. They'd been so angry…So very, very angry. Draco and Blaise were livid over Voldemort's threat to their love, and Padma couldn't constantly filter that instinctual rage. But she did take their side. She agreed that it didn't feel right, and had tried to talk Virginia out of going back. But Virginia had stayed adamant.

There'd been a moment when she'd almost broken, almost given in and stayed at the Manor, but Pansy had talked her back out of it, arguing that they could still protect her at Hogwarts, that she needed to keep as normal a routine as possible. Draco and Blaise had promptly told her to fuck her 'normal routine', and that they only had one priority at the moment. Virginia's safety. She'd told them that she understood that they were worried, but they couldn't keep her locked up like a prisoner. As they'd said as much themselves before, they'd reluctantly given in after another two hours of the females' pleas and threats.

But none of the guys were happy about it, and they let everyone know it. Typical. But Lycelle couldn't really blame them. She'd seen the love shining behind the fury, had seen the fear behind the indignation. And that love is what had made them relent. So now they all wore their swords openly and were practically attacking their own shadows. Well…Okay, it hadn't gotten _that_ bad, but nearly. And the twins, who'd been quite ticked off about not being able to make sure that everyone was all right, had been given visiting passes like Narcissa and Silana had, and it had become a common occurrence in Slytherin House for them to pop in at any and all hours.

It was also a common occurrence to find Padma there with them, as she'd practically been living in their House, much like Virginia. Well, not _exactly_ like Virginia, as she hadn't taken up residence in their princes' rooms, but she did have her own room now, and no longer had to go back to Ravenclaw very often. The looks on her Housemates' faces when she had walked in on their first day back, sandwiched between Virginia and Draco and grinning happily, had been beyond hilarious. They'd looked like the sky had just fallen on their brilliant little heads. Their eyes followed her everywhere now, and every time she smiled or laughed, their shock became a little bit more profound.

Parvati's eyes also followed her everywhere, but they were hostile and hateful. Padma didn't seem to notice though, and she was always with some Slytherin or another, so they never spoke. Draco, Blaise and the other males _had_ gotten their way on one thing, which was that no one, _no one_, left the House alone. _Ever_. And never without protection amulets of their making on. Every member of the House had received an amulet that Draco, Blaise, Virginia, Padma and the twins had worked on the first few days back, and Lycelle knew that the sixth and seventh years were wearing stronger ones than most, as they were the most likely to face any danger.

Even Hermione had been given one when Lycelle had secretly requested it of Virginia and Padma, not wanting to ask Draco or Blaise because of the looks that she'd known she would receive. And the refusal. But the two older girls had agreed, and she'd given it to Hermione days ago. The girl would probably need it, seeing as how Ron had opened his mouth about her fucking Anton their first night back. Not too surprising, in Lycelle's opinion, but it had hurt Hermione deeply, and none of her Housemates were speaking to her. Lycelle, Virginia and, occasionally, Padma, were the _only_ people who did anymore. Without sneering or jeering, that is.

Even the teachers looked at her differently now, except for Dumbledore and Severus. But then, Severus just liked torturing her, and Dumbledore smiled at everyone. Even McGonagall's nose rose a bit when she was around now, and Lycelle knew that it was killing her. And pissing her off. But she hadn't said anything to anyone about it so far, just ducked her head and ignored their whispers. Or, in Ron's case, shouts. Harry had tried to talk to her, but she'd blown him off quickly, fear in her eyes. And she had a reason to fear him, of course. Lycelle had seen his eyes that night. Possessed or not, it had been fucked up and frightening.

And Harry wasn't exactly…_right in the head_, anymore. If he ever had been to begin with. But he was _certainly_ offnow. It was hard to explain. He'd been drug in from the grounds the night Draco had locked the Manor down, and Sirius had gone with Molly to finish healing what the house elves had simply refused to do for someone that their masters hated. Harry had been unconscious at the time, his injuries quite severe, and it was said that he'd been found in one of the dragon's nests, covered in regurgitated food and babbling insanely about Dementors, spiders, nymphs and a dozen other creatures and things and places and smells and…

The list went on and on, the banshee had told them in a thoroughly disgusted manner, mumbling something about, '_The_ _young masters never went mad during a Hunt. Weak, foolish halfblood_.' Harry'd then slept the night away, dead to the world with healing tonics running through him, and had awoken the next morning alone with a mean-tempered house elf that hadn't hesitated to tell him his place. It had then, after berating him for his laziness and mental slowness, drug him down to the dining room where everyone else had gathered. The first thing that Harry had seen upon entering the room had been Sirius sitting on a couch between Draco and Blaise, chatting like old friends.

Now, granted, he'd just been through one of the most feared punishments one could think of, as the creatures on the Malfoy grounds were nothing to fuck around with. And had he been with friends, they still would have fucked with him about it, but they would have been concerned as well. As it was, he was not with friends, except for a sparse few, and they would never let him forget what he did upon seeing his godfather talking to two of his most hated enemies in a much more easy and natural fashion then he'd ever talked to Harry. He'd fainted. _It was quite classical actually_, Lycelle thought wryly. His jaw had dropped, his eyes had rolled back, and he'd hit the floor like a sack of sickles. He hadn't been right since, whether from the Hunt, the shock, or both.

He should just be really happy that he wasn't around her Housemates more than he had to be in classes. They swooned dramatically every time they saw him now, cooing '_Oh_, _Padfoot_!' before dissolving into snickers with everyone else who was in the near vicinity. And that latter part was strange in itself. Because it wasn't only the Slytherins laughing. The other Houses had been acting weird since they'd come back from Yule Break. They'd been acting slightly…_friendly_. It was unimaginably odd to hear one of her Housemates say something funny and sadistic, and hear Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs chuckling about it.

And there were the new whispers abounding through the hallways. Whispers of '_Not_ _so horrible_', '_Been_ _researching and found some interesting stuff_', '_They_ _used to protect us_', '_Not_ _really _evil, _I don't think_', '_Bad publicity, rotten parents, is all_.' The first time Lycelle had heard such mutterings, she stopped dead in her tracks, stunned to her core. Were they finally remembering? It wasn't _that_ long ago that their families had still used their magick to shield those under their rule, but it was long enough ago that the younger generations barely knew anything about it, as their parents usually left that part out during their home studies.

And that was, apparently, where they'd gone wrong. Because now that the students were discovering it on their own, it had become a mysterious secret to them, one their parents had been trying to keep them from. And as history has proved time and time again, the forbidden is always sweeter. And with the initial discoveries that had spread through the school like wildfire, they were starting to reevaluate recent events, and dig even deeper into the past. More and more information was being unearthed daily, and it had become somewhat of an obsession to the students, their new mission. _Figure the Slytherins out, find out what they're really all about_.

To say that her Housemates were repulsed by this was a massive understatement, and she swore that the next time Draco or Blaise caught a Hufflepuff rambling on about how great and wonderful and generous they were, one or both of them were going to snap. The article about the Weasleys' return to the aristocracy hadn't helped that, and they'd eagerly awaited another article, hoping it would return everything to normal. But when the article about their stunt at their award ceremony _did_ come one morning, it had had the opposite effect than they'd hoped for. In some strange twist of fate, everyone seemed to have found it either amusing or justified.

The Gryffindors were still their usual prickish selves, except for a few that laughed right along with the others. When questioned by their wary Housemates, they'd say things like '_But_ _look, Virginia_ and _Padma like them and trust them_', or '_You_ _don't know anything, all you think of is Quidditch and food_.' Funny how it was mostly the Gryffindor males hearing that last line. And funny how it was mostly them still starting trouble and talking shit. Draco and Blaise's nerves were stretched to the breaking point already, and she knew it wasn't going to take much more for all hell to break loose. It would have been bad enough without all of the new weirdness.

But somehow, someway, the other Houses were slowly but surely trying to draw the Slytherins into their activities and gatherings and such, wanting to trade coven notes and all sorts of things that she and her Housemates simply didn't know how to deal with. Dealing with an insult was easy; you just threw a curse. This was different. Entirely different. Especially when a sneer and a cold look just seemed to make them all the more determined. It was as if they felt guilty for their past behavior and were set on making up for it. She just thanked the gods that no one had had the nerve to ask Draco or Blaise for notes. And if someone did, she didn't want to be in the general vicinity.

Occasionally over the last week and a half, Lycelle had sometimes felt as though she were dreaming as she watched the other students go from straight fear and dislike of Draco and Blaise, to respect and a bit of awe, to this new…_something_. They still feared them, but they were starting to look at them like…Oh hell. They were looking at them like they'd used to look at Harry. As if they were staring at their saviors. _Idiots_. She knew, for a fact, that neither Draco nor Blaise would ever fight for someone who hadn't bowed and sworn themselves to their service. Their best hope of getting those two to fight in their war was if the Dark Lord fucked with them unforgivably.

And then…And then all hell _would_ break loose. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she glanced back up at her sister, who was looking much too delighted for it to be anything good. Almost all of the Slytherins were grinning nastily, and Lycelle felt an uneasy sensation start in her belly. They all looked over suddenly, and the sensation grew when she saw who they were staring at. _Hermione_. Not good, not good…The girl was walking towards them and for the side doors, her face buried in a book and a few more under her arm. Then Lycelle heard Melody hum a few notes, and thought, _why on earth would she hum _that _now? _She found out a moment later when the majority of her House began singing.

"_Less like witch – more like_ thing,

_She sure as fuck didn't get a ring, _

_That's why Slytherins all sing,_

_Granger was a fling!_"

Oh sweet gods, they _weren't_. But they _were_, and Hermione had frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief as her books fell to the floor.

"_She'll_ _fuck Filch, she'll fuck Binns,_

_She always lets the cooo-ocks in,_

_The new po-ster girl for sin,_

_Granger was a fling!_"

The other Houses, even Gryffindor, were laughing by then and humming along, Hermione looked mortified, Pansy looked pleased, and Anton looked indifferent.

"_Granger was a fling!_

_Granger was a fling!_

_She always lets the cooo-ocks in,_

_Granger was a fliiiiiii-ng!_"

"_THAT'S_ _ENOUGH!_" McGonagall bellowed, still barely getting her voice to be heard over the uproarious laughter and repeats of the chorus. She spun towards Severus, and her jaw nearly came unhinged before her nose scrunched up in disapproval. Because Severus actually had his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking visibly with barely-restrained mirth as he tried not to ruin his reputation forever by falling out of his chair and howling with utter glee. "_Severus_." McGonagall hissed, and he just waved a dismissive hand at her before resuming his silent hilarity.

"Fuck." Lycelle mumbled to herself. "Just…fuck." Then she got up without thinking and went to Hermione's side, helping her pick up her books. Her sister could be a really vindictive bitch when she wanted to be.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy left the library later that night and started her trek to the common room. Three fifth years were with her, talking quietly about the charms they'd just been going over, and every once in a while, they'd glance at Pansy's engagement ring and smirk. Shaking her head at them, she almost didn't see the figure streaking past her until they'd collided. Hitting the floor hard, she shoved the person's weight off of her and rose to a crouching position, turning to face whoever it was with her wand in hand. But as she took in her friend's teary eyes and shaking shoulders, all thoughts of an attacker left her mind.

"Daphne?" She asked, moving closer to the other girl. "What's wrong?" The fifth years dropped down beside them, their faces etched with worry as they studied their Housemate's uncharacteristic emotional turmoil.

"N-Nothing. I—I just have to get _out_." Daphne stammered, and Pansy was starting to become truly concerned. She'd never seen the sixth year so upset before. Especially not out in the open at Hogwarts.

"Alright. We'll go out to the gardens for a bit then, hmm?" She offered, and Daphne looked up at her with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thanks, Pansy." She whispered, rising to her feet and wrapping her arms tightly around herself. It was normal enough behavior for most people, but not for _her_, and the fifth years were staring to look slightly panicked. She motioned the oldest, Matvei, to come closer. He did so, and she leaned in, telling him softly and clearly what she wanted him to do.

"Go with the others back to the common room. Tell Draco and Blaise that I'm with Daphne so they don't freak out, and tell them that we'll be back within the hour, at the latest. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." He replied, and she kissed his cheek before shooing him and his friends off.

"Go then. And don't tell them we're outside unless they ask directly!" She called as an afterthought, before her attention went back to her friend. "Come on, let's go. You can tell me all about it when we get to the gardens." Daphne nodded shakily, and they started their walk silently.

Something was obviously bothering her friend, and she hated seeing her like that. Melody and Daphne had been her closest friends besides Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Anton for a very long time, and they'd been her _only_ female friends until Virginia and Padma had come along. And there _was_ a difference. She sure as hell wouldn't have been able to talk to the _guys_ about 'witch stuff'. She could just imagine the looks of horror on Draco and Blaise's faces if she were to go up and say something like, '_I've_ _just been having the_ worst _cramps, and I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. Do you know any stronger absorption spells?_'

Cackling internally at the very thought and deciding that it might be worth it if only for the severe humor factor, she relished the cold air hitting her face when they slid out of a little-used side door in a part of the castle that wound towards the lake. Staying under the ancient stone walkway in order to avoid the heavy, constant snowfall all around them, they twisted their way down to the gardens. Everything looked supremely white, as everything was almost completely covered in the bright flakes, and the moonlight shone silver over the snow's surface. They stopped at the section where the walkway forked, and Daphne looked at the gardens with trepidation.

"I—Oh, I'm so sorry, Pansy. I just…I don't think I can go in there." She said, and Pansy stared. Seeing her look, Daphne rushed on. "It's just that that's where—that's where she kissed me the first time."

"What?" Pansy asked, thrown for a minute. Then a blurry image swam up in her mind, an image of bright colors and primal music, and she saw Melody, leaning over Daphne and… "Oh. _Oh_."

"Yeah." Daphne said, her voice small and drifting.

"Where do you want to go then?" Pansy asked her, realizing that something must have happened between the two. Had they been that serious?

"Why don't we walk just inside the tree line?" Daphne suggested after looking around for a moment. "If anything happens, someone will hear us scream from there. And we're at Hogwarts, so it's safe, right?"

"Hmm." Pansy made a thoughtful noise, looking towards the forest. Draco and Blaise would kill them if they took a single step inside those trees alone, she knew that, but Daphne really needed to talk, and she'd always made time for Pansy's problems before. And they had their amulets, so… "I guess. But only for a little bit. You know how they get."

"Yeah. Anton would butcher me if I kept you gone too long." Daphne tried to smile, but it failed miserably.

Something flickered in the girl's eyes, but she turned and started for the forest before Pansy could get a better look. Shrugging, Pansy followed her, and they had to wade through the deep snow that time. Spells pushed the majority of it out of their way, but they were still soaking wet by the time they got to the trees. Performing quick drying spells, they took to the wide path that Hagrid had trampled out and went ten or fifteen feet into the thick trees. They started walking in a wide circle around the edge of the forest, and Pansy stayed quiet, knowing the girl would speak when she was ready. She didn't have that long of a wait.

"She used me." Daphne said after a few minutes, and her voice broke slightly, her shoulders hunching even more. It hurt Pansy to see the girl's self-esteem and pride so beaten, and she slid an arm around her waist, keeping the other hand firmly clasped around her wand, deep in her pocket.

"What are you talking about?" Pansy asked. "Melody? She wouldn't—"

"She did!" Daphne exclaimed, and her tears finally came free, streaking down her cheeks steadily.

"Okay." Pansy soothed, remembering _why_ she'd never had too many female friends.

She had no idea how to deal with situations like this, and it made her more than a bit uncomfortable. That's what she'd always liked about having Slytherin friends. They didn't cry and blubber over every little fucking thing. They were virtually untouchable when it came to emotions, but they, like everyone else, had weaknesses. Theirs were love and ambition. Love because when it took a hold of them, it did so wholly. Ambition because they would do _anything_ to achieve their goals. And now, looking down into her friend's eyes, she could see the desperate gleam of the love that gripped her, and she felt a sudden surge of anger towards Melody.

"What happened?" Pansy asked, and Daphne sighed.

"I guess I should start from the beginning." She said, and Pansy nodded. "You see, I've liked her for a long time. And I've never liked wizards, but she does. For the longest time, I thought she was just straight, since she'd never taken another witch to her bed like most of us had. But then…Well, you know." She said, and Pansy did. She and Melody had both had _way_ too much wine that night.

"I didn't know you felt that way about her." Pansy said, but she didn't feel guilty about it. After all, she _hadn't_ known.

"I know. I never said anything to anyone about it." Daphne said, a strained laugh forcing itself from between her lips. "But I knew after that that she didn't feel the same way about female flesh as I do about male. I knew that she wasn't as unreachable as I'd always thought. But in a way, she still was, you know? So much better than me, her family so much older…And so beautiful."

"You're not bad to look at yourself, you know." Pansy reminded her, and Daphne smirked humorlessly.

"Perhaps. But I'm nothing next to her, or _you_ for that matter, and you know it." Daphne said, snapping a dead branch in half with her fingers as they passed it. "So I watched her. I watched her for what seems like forever when I think back on it. I watched her play the flesh games with all of you, and tried to find the courage to say something."

Pansy gripped her wand tighter. _The flesh games_. She hadn't thought about that in ages. It was what they fondly referred to their first four years at Hogwarts as. No one stayed a virgin for very long in Slytherin, and the other Houses' tales of their orgies weren't all that far off, to tell the truth. Slytherin was a haven for the dark witches and wizards at school, and nothing was too taboo except for straight-up incest. They were privileged children from privileged families, and they were denied nothing in the ways of carnal pleasure. It had been a long-lasting lesson as important as any of their others, for sex could be a weapon deadlier than most when wielded correctly.

Yes, a Slytherin's first four years were anything but boring, and neither were the three following them. Seduction became a game, a game of the flesh, and they'd all been set on winning. Nearly all of them had slept with each other at some point or another over the last seven years, the game stopping only when you willed it to. Summer breaks had always been interesting, traveling around and meeting the other purebloods who played. Needless to say, more than a few people had been disappointed when Draco and Blaise had shut themselves off with Virginia. Daphne's voice brought her out of her memories and back to the cold forest.

"I couldn't though." The girl was saying. "How could I have told her? I could have requested a night with her, I know that, but I didn't _want_ a single night. I wanted _every_ night." She declared, and Pansy sympathized.

It was much how she'd felt after that first night with Anton. She'd been watching him for days, admiring the way his muscles moved under his skin as he'd swam in the Greek sea, the way the water had made him look like a god when he'd left it, the moonlight framing his form against the white sand. That week had been the first time she'd ever felt jealous of anyone in his bed, and it had had to be Draco and Blaise that he'd fallen onto silk sheets with, all three wasted out of their minds and too forgetful to perform silencing spells. It was that time, walking in and seeing them entangled and moaning, that she'd realized she really did love him.

She hadn't been angry or anything, as they'd done the same thing numerous times before, and hadn't been doing anything wrong, but it had definitely been an eye-opener. She knew that Draco and Blaise had known something was up the next morning, when she'd taken one look at their hooded eyes and crooked clothes before bolting. Determined to get over it, two nights later had found _her_ in Anton's bed, but it had had the reverse effect. His hands had seemed branded into her skin after that, and his face seemed to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. So yes, she knew why Daphne wouldn't have wanted that, why she would have wanted more.

"I understand." Was all that she said, though, and Daphne nodded.

"I know you do. That's why I'm glad you're with me now." She responded, and Pansy graced her with a small smile. "But anyway, somehow, my wish came true. We went to the gardens one night last September, right after school had started. And she kissed me."

"You must have been thrilled." Pansy remarked, idly watching a bowtruckle wave its branchy arms at them threateningly as they passed its tree.

"Of course I was." Daphne said, the smallest of smiles twisting her lips. "It was, as stupid as this sounds, a dream come true. We've been seeing each other ever since."

"Why didn't you ever tell any of us?" Pansy asked, slightly confused.

"I don't know. It never really came up." Daphne replied. "Draco and Blaise knew, of course. They know everything that goes on within the walls of our House. They never said anything, though, and we were—well, I _thought_ we were too happy to really think about saying anything. I should have known everything was too perfect to last."

"So, what happened? Did you split up?"

"Haven't really had time to." The girl said sardonically, seemingly unable to meet Pansy's eyes. "She was in bed with Padma."

"_What!?_" Pansy half-yelped, coming to an abrupt stop and staring wide-eyed at her friend.

"You heard me." Daphne mumbled, kicking a mound of snow with her boot. "It was _so_ fucked up, Pansy. She was just lying there with Padma, and Fred and George were taking her robes off, and—"

"_What!?_" Pansy echoed herself, at a complete loss.

She'd thought that Padma liked the twins, and the twins Padma, but she'd never thought they would take a forth if they ever did get together. It just didn't make any sense. They weren't Slytherins after all, and although the Patils still practiced the old ways, the Ravenclaws were too stuffy for casual sex. And the twins…Well, she wouldn't put it past _them_. They were known to be a bit promiscuous themselves, but they were male Gryffindors, so no one had cared. Just showed how fucked up the other Houses were, in her opinion. But she just couldn't see them doing that with Padma _and_ Melody. She just _couldn't_.

Twins like they were typically shared one lover, although they in no way messed around with one another, but she just couldn't see them sharing Padma with anyone if they ever managed to snag her, which she didn't think they had done yet. Padma would have told her and Virginia, at the very least. And Padma was too…too _deep_ for something that wouldn't consume her from head to foot. She felt too much, too strongly, for her to risk herself in such a way for something like a bit of fun between the sheets. But here was Daphne, telling her different, and why shouldn't she believe her? As far as she knew, the girl had never lied to her. But…

"Maybe it was something else." Pansy finally said. "Maybe it wasn't what it looked like." Daphne snorted.

"Oh, come on, Pansy." She said hopelessly. "What are the chances of that? And if it had been you who'd seen them with, say, Anton…" She didn't need to say anymore. Except that Pansy would have barged in and demanded an explanation.

"Alright. Say it _was_ what it looked like, I mean what—" She stopped suddenly, becoming aware of her surroundings for the first time in a long time. _Fuck_, she thought absently, drawing her wand from her pocket and grabbing Daphne's arm. How had they gotten so far into the forest? How had she not noticed? A deep sense of alarm settled within her, and she started dragging Daphne back towards the castle. The other girl dug in her heels and yanked back, staring at Pansy strangely.

"What are you _doing_?" She asked, rubbing her arm.

"Look around." Pansy snapped, annoyed that they'd both gotten so carried away that their attention had lapsed enough to get them much farther from the castle than was really safe. Much farther.

Straining her senses, all it took was a heavy footfall to have her running, dragging the girl behind her once again. She knew she'd made the right choice when the footsteps matched their pace, and she picked out at least three other sets moving to flank them. _So stupid_, she berated herself, and turned her wand skyward, speaking a spell quickly before tapping her amulet with it. The chain and pendant began glowing, and she was soon surrounded by a mixed shield, all four elements melded into it and clinging to her like a second skin. Power slammed into her flesh and gave her legs new speed, and she could feel a wall of black fury start moving towards them from the castle.

They were less than forty yards from the forest's edge when she felt another five moving at them from the front. Cursing, she veered south, ignoring the branches that slapped her in the face and trying to make sure that she didn't lose her grip on Daphne. A curse flew past her head and she turned again, having no choice but to go deeper into the forest once more. Digging through her memory madly, she tried to decide where the closest clearing that Draco and Blaise had warded was. There were several spread throughout the forest, and she knew that if she could get to one, they would be safe. But then Daphne tripped.

"Ow!" The girl shrieked as her leg twisted underneath her, they both hit the ground hard for a second time that night, and Pansy felt her necklace get ripped off on a low root that was sticking up out of the ground.

The first bit of fear shot through her, as she knew that fall had just cost them dearly, not to mention that her amulet was gone, leaving her feeling naked and exposed. There was no point in trying to run again. She could hear them encircle her and Daphne, could hear them moving closer and closer. Looking up slowly, her grip on her wand became nearly tight enough to break it. Death Eaters. Death Eaters on Hogwarts' grounds. It wasn't as safe as they'd thought after all. All that ran through her head as they surrounded them was, _I should have listened to Draco and Blaise. I should have listened to Anton_. Thinking of the latter made her chest constrict, and she pushed distracting thoughts of him away.

"Excellent." One of the Death Eaters said victoriously as the black-robed, white-masked circle closed around them. Pansy lifted her chin and glared at them defiantly.

"How _dare_ you." She hissed, and the man in front actually faltered. "My father will have your head for this!"

"Your father will do nothing if our Lord wills it." The man spat. "He follows orders just like the rest of us, be he a high-and-mighty first circler, or not."

"You are weak." She said, twisting her lips into a disgusted sneer. "Pure, and yet you kneel before one whose blood is tainted and diluted. I would pity you if the emotion weren't so fake."

"Bold words, girl." He said, twirling his wand between his fingers, not seeing her own, which was once more buried in her pocket. "Too bold, perhaps."

"I have nothing to fear from you." She said calmly. "Even if your pathetic Lord wishes to see my blood run, it will not be a denizen of the second circle who gets the honor."

"Whatever." He mumbled, and pulled a battered quill from his pocket. Recognition swamped her, and she felt the weeks fall away until she was standing in a doorway, staring at Marcus Flint, who'd had a quill almost identical to theirs. Understanding suddenly, she mentally reeled. _They have a way into the castle's wards. Gods help us all_.

"She's just trying to stall." Another Death Eater said, "We need to get out of here. _Now_."

"Why so anxious? It's just a girl." A third said, and the second man turned on him.

"You want to tell Bella that?" He questioned sharply, and the other shook his head, shutting up quickly. "And can't you _feel_ it? They're coming. We have to _go_!"

"Fine!" The first exclaimed, and Pansy felt like screaming.

_No!_ Not when she could feel the crest of dark power rolling closer and closer. She needed a minute, just a minute. Draco and Blaise moved swiftly, they didn't need long. But it didn't look as if she were going to get it. The man was already activating the portkey, so Pansy did the only thing that she could, and preformed a quick spell that the two had taught them all a while ago. She knew there was no way to avoid being taken, and she couldn't fight them all, not while they were so alert. That left one choice besides killing herself, and things weren't that bad yet. Mumbling under her breath, she felt the spell taking hold and her words died out, her wand burning hotly in her hand, searing her flesh.

But she held on until the Death Eater grabbed her and she felt them begin to disintegrate. The twang of a far-off bowstring sounded behind her, seconds before a silver arrow embedded itself in the Death Eater's chest, exploding as soon as it had buried itself inside him and covering her face in splattered blood. But it was too late, and she only had time to throw her wand out and to the ground. She heard it start screaming, and knew a flash of success, since that meant her spell had worked. It was complicated dark magick, and the fact she could do it at all proved that she was a powerful witch, especially being so young.

Then the world was fading away and she was falling, soaring through a sea of nothing until she, once _again_, hit the ground hard enough to bruise. The Death Eater's weight crashed down on top of her, and she would have groaned had she been able. More warm blood was seeping into her robes and hair, and she shoved him off of her roughly, grabbing his wand in the process and praying it would work for her. Not thinking, knowing the others would be disoriented as well after the trip, she turned and shot the Killing Curse without any remorse or even any words, watching blankly as the Death Eater fell in a heap of cheap black robes. Fourth circle filth.

The next died before he knew what was happening, and she dodged the others' curses, looking around quickly. They were in a plain, stone storage room, not too small and not too large, and there was only one exit. Daphne was getting to her feet and staring at Pansy fearfully, and she wanted to smack the girl. _Why doesn't she draw her wand already? Why is she staring at me as if I'm some bloodthirsty demon?_ Not having time to worry about it, she ducked behind a stack of wooden boxes that looked as if they'd held animals…or people. Another Death Eater fell, and she thought that she might actually be able to find that portkey and escape.

Until Voldemort walked into the room.

"Cease this at once and your sister won't become the new Parkinson heir. And I would hate for that to happen. You must be quite powerful to cast that curse without even speaking the words of it." He said majestically, and she could do nothing but stare.

He was…He was _beautiful_. Nothing at all like he'd been the last time that she'd seen him. His skin wasn't scaly any longer, but smooth and pale, nearly translucent. The odd rot that had been spreading over his entire body a year ago was gone, and he was no longer bald. Hair barely three shades lighter than Blaise's fell to his hips and was pulled back into a long ponytail. His eyes were still red and slanted, and they still were still glowing with a sick, perverted light, but his face was that of what it had once been, before all of the spells and transformations. It was the face that she'd seen in pictures; it was the face of a young, healthy Tom Riddle.

He walked over to her slowly, taking the wizard's wand from her hand and leading her out from behind the boxes by it. She recoiled at his touch. He felt clammy, dead. _Tainted_, her brain whispered, and a shudder ran through her. She pulled away from him immediately, but he didn't hurt her for it as she'd been expecting. He just smiled. A glorious, angelic smile that made her feel slightly ill. He raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for her to say something. She didn't say anything. _Couldn't_ say anything. And wouldn't have anyway. His beauty would not trick her. She'd grown up her entire life with two more beautiful than even he was now.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked, a mocking lilt in his voice that let her know that he knew of her Animagus form.

Still, she did not speak, nor so much as move her lips.

"Come now, Pansy." He said, and her name coming off of his forked tongue sounded wrong, foul, even as his voice stayed sweet to the ears. "Will you not even greet me?"

Silence. His gaze turned suspicious and cold in the blink of an eye.

"Why won't you speak?" He demanded, and when she said nothing again, he backhanded her hard enough to send her to the floor for the forth bloody time that night. Starting to get seriously irked about being knocked down so many times, she tried to squelch her rising terror as the knowledge of being all alone (but for Daphne) in the Dark Lord's fortress became clearer and more real by the second. The only thing that soothed her was the knowledge that her spell had worked. He must have seen the flash of triumph in her eyes, as his own narrowed dangerously.

"You would not have been so foolish." He said, as if he knew exactly what she'd done. "Or would you? That spell could just as easily of killed you as worked, you know."

She gave the barest of nods.

"Stupid, stupid girl." He said, before turning and Petrifying her.

A levitating spell had her floating behind him, and she never got to see what they did to Daphne as she was maneuvered away. She simply heard the girl scream. And she knew what she was about to undergo. She knew that one rarely survived a torture session with the Dark Lord. She knew that she would be unrecognizable within hours, and she knew that she would be lucky to even be breathing by then. She knew that there were some things that were done solely to witches. She knew that there were some things from which you never recovered. She'd known all of that before she'd cast the spell on her wand. The spell that had stolen her voice and sentenced her to this fate. But she'd had no other choice. She would not betray her friends.

Voldemort would not get one word from Pansy Adèle Parkinson's lips.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise tried not to drop dead from sheer boredom as he listened to Professor Trelawney ramble on and on and on…Positive that he was about to snap and hex her lips shut, he leaned up against the wall and tried to pretend that he was somewhere else. Why, _why_, did Severus always make him bring the bitch her batch of Aetherius Draught? _Probably some sick sort of revenge_, he concluded almost ten minutes later when she was _still_ fucking talking about crystals and tealeaves and a bunch of other shit that people who couldn't walk freely in Reverie needed. As that didn't in the least concern him, he couldn't have cared any less.

'_Oh, come on, love. It can't be that bad._' He heard Virginia call through the Marks, and he smirked.

'_You haven't had to deal with this shit, so I don't want to hear it._' He replied, while Trelawney stayed oblivious.

'_Oooh__, testy, isn't he?_' Draco teased, and Virginia's lyrical laughter trickled through him like a refreshing sip of…

"Blaise? Are you listening?" Trelawney questioned, and Blaise just stopped himself from groaning.

"Yes, Professor." He intoned blandly, and she smiled.

"Good. Now, as I was saying, you never should have dropped my class. I could teach you so _much_, dear. I'm sure you could learn to tap into the visions with a lot of practice, and I would be an excellent tutor. As you know, I am…"

'_Help._'

'_Oh gods, would you listen to that?_' Virginia marveled. '_Blaise Zabini, Master of Air and Lightening, Bane of the Bane, is asking us mere little people for help. Surely this should be marked as a major historical event._'

'_I hate you._'

'_I'm sure you do, love. She's looking at you funny again._'

"What, Professor? I'm afraid I missed that last part." He said, giving her a charming smile. She returned it immediately, her doubts melting away, and he drew on the last of his patience as she started blabbering again, which wasn't very much to begin with.

'_It's really too bad that you're stuck there._' Virginia continued, her tone becoming low and husky. '_Draco got hot, for _some_ strange reason, and has seemed to decide that clothes are redundant._'

'_It's just that they're so _stifling_, mon âme._' Draco purred, his desire winding down their link, and it was a moan that Blaise was restraining that time.

'_They really are._' Virginia insisted, playful and sinful. '_Even _I'm_ hot. Ohhh, that's better. Silk feels positively delicious when it slides off, doesn't it, cher un?_'

'_I really, _really_ hate you both._'

'_That's fine._' Draco murmured, his voice chilly and tempting. '_But I'd really, _really_ prefer it if you were fucking instead of bitching._'

'_I second that notion._' Virginia agreed, her voice sending fiery coils throughout his form. '_So, which one of us will you take first, hmm? We need you, mon aimé._'

Right. Fuck his patience and fuck Trelawney.

"That's nice, Professor." He said, cutting her off in mid-sentence smoothly and with grace that a courtier would die for. "But I really have to be going. Pressing issues, you know."

"Oh. Oh, that's too bad, dear." She said, looking putout, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. "Well, come by soon and—_Stop her_." Her voice turned gravely and harsh as soon as her hand met his body.

"Excuse me?" He asked, stepping back and nearly breaking their contact. But he stopped when she continued. He knew the voice of prophecy. He had spoken with it himself.

"_When she escapes, when all in the Dark Hall are dead, you must stop her. Stop her or it will mean her death_." Trelawney continued, and he stared at her. No fucking way. She really _did_ have at least a bit of the Sight that her line had been famous for. She slumped when she was done and looked around blearily. "Wha—Oh, are you still here?"

"No. I am very, very gone." He said, and left without another word. What the fuck had she meant by all of that? Stop _who_?

'_What the hell was _that_ all about?_' Draco demanded, Virginia echoing him.

'_How should I know? You heard as much as I did._' He responded dryly, while his mind was spinning. Who had she been talking about? And who knew that the crazy old bitch could actually See? He made it to the second floor before the controlling ring on his finger flared to life, and one thought slammed into his mind. _Pansy_.

'_Did you--?_' Virginia started, before their rings flared again, this time screaming '_Daphne_'.

'_Oui!_' He replied as he started to run. '_Go! I'll meet you on the grounds!_'

He felt his lovers' silent agreement, and called out to Padma and the twins as he broke open the door to one of the closest classrooms. They responded immediately, already on the way to the forest themselves as their own rings, which were tuned into every amulet that they'd made, had alerted them. He didn't even bother to break the glass in the window that was on the back wall, just covered his face as he leapt through it. Landing on his feet lightly in the snow, he was running again before he'd even really stopped. He met Draco and Virginia when he was halfway to the tree line, and they followed the tugs in their rings.

Rage had engulfed him totally by then, and it gave him a calm, eagle eye perception of everything around him. Time almost seemed to slow, even as he moved faster and faster. He sensed the first Death eater hiding behind a tree a little ways ahead, and called in his new bow without thinking. A silver arrow was nocked and flying a second later, and the Death Eater never even saw his approaching death before it was upon him. Blaise had been waiting for an opportunity to try his new weapon out. What a satisfying way to go about it. The next died just as quickly, and he counted off the ones that fell to the ones that he could still sense.

His lovers left a bloody path behind them as well, none of them ever slowing. They felt at least twenty Death Eaters in the woods, and seven were already dead. They could also feel Pansy and Daphne, and knew they were close. Then they felt a spell activating; a transporting spell. Knowing that their time was up, Blaise jumped up onto a dead, fallen tree and took aim. He could just see the circle of Death Eaters, could just see the ones holding Pansy and Daphne through the snow-heavy branches of the trees. They were over three hundred yards away, much too far for an ordinary shot. But then again, it wasn't an ordinary bow in his hands, and he wasn't an ordinary archer.

Nocking two arrows at once that time, he took a deep breath and let them fly. Both found their targets dead on, an arrow embedding itself in each wizard's chest, but it was still too late, and many of them disappeared. But not all. No, not all. Images of Pansy ran through his mind as he closed the distance between himself and those that were left, and he felt his fury grow ever stronger. Images of her smile, her laugh, her selfless sense of honor. Images of her as a child, as an adolescent, as the strong, proud witch she was becoming. Images of her taking care of them, healing them, of never, ever, leaving them or betraying their trust in any way.

She was the sister neither of them had ever had and their best friend's beloved. She was dark and cruel and lethal, and she'd used every one of those traits to defend them countless times. And now, now they had taken her, stolen her. Her wand was falling to the ground, and when it began screaming, he felt his anger solidify into a charged, destructive force that waited for his slightest command. His first shot of lightning hit one of the standing Death Eaters in the face, and he watched pitilessly as fire ate another and ice sliced a third into fine pieces. A few tried to run, but they were knocked, or, more technically, _pulled_, to the ground by an unseen force.

An unseen force named Padma who seemed to be getting the hang of the whole gravity thing. Thankful for her assistance even though it wasn't direly needed, he relished the slow frying of another, relished watching his energy turn him into a smoking husk. Pansy's screams that were coming from the wand only drove him on until the last was dead, which didn't take nearly as long as he would have liked for it to. Finally slowing and stopping, he slung his bow over one shoulder next to his quiver and glanced around. His lovers were a few feet from him, bodies littering the ground around them, and he went to their side.

Padma and the twins were standing a little ways off, and a Death Eater lay dead at each twin's feet, their necks broken. They were staring at the shrieking wand, their eyes filled with sorrow, and he felt like screaming himself. He hadn't really expected anything else from her, but the fact that she'd really risked herself so badly to do the spell shook him. She'd always been loyal, but this…It was a spell that they'd taught them over a year ago in case any of them were ever taken. They'd only taught the older Slytherins, as their younger Housemates never really knew that much of true importance. But Pansy knew almost everything.

He could see why the Dark Lord would want her, and he was sure that Pansy had seen it too. Why else would she have taken such a chance for such a spell? It could have easily killed her, but she'd thought the reason for her actions worth it. The spell had stolen her voice from her and put it in her wand. It had taken a piece of her, of the sadness and rage and despair that she'd been feeling at the time, and now it shrieked for her with the voice she could no longer use. There was only a small chance that they would be able to return her voice to her if they ever got her back. Which they would. If he had to sneak into Nor Gorgun himself, they would get her back.

Something glimmered in the filtered moonlight and he went to it, bending and picking it up. Pansy's amulet. How had she lost it? They could not have laid a finger on her had she still been wearing it. Glancing around, he saw Daphne's not too far from where he'd found hers, and snatched it up as well. His anger was still pounding hotly, and he could not stop thinking of the two girls and what they would be facing. They had to get them out of there. They couldn't leave them in the clutches of that lunatic. He felt Virginia and Draco move up behind him, felt their own turmoil and loss. Virginia looked as if she were about to cry, and hers and Draco's rage matched his.

"Oh, Pansy…" Virginia murmured, her hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. "No, no, not _Pansy_…"

"Goddamnit!" Draco exploded, his fist slamming into the nearest tree and coating it in an instant layer of ice. Blaise intertwined their fingers without giving it so much as a conscious thought, while pulling Virginia against his other side as the first of her tears fell.

"We have to go get her." She said, her voice becoming just a bit hysterical. Padma and the twins moved towards them, and Padma wrapped her arms around Virginia immediately while Fred and George each wrapped an arm around Draco and Blaise's waists, laying their heads on their shoulders and not speaking a word, just giving their silent support and acceptance of whatever was decided. Their eyes were dark, their crimson hair, which was beginning to become a deeper red like their sister's day by day, falling over the Slytherins' black robes vibrantly, and they were like supporting stones; comfortable, familiar, steady, strong.

"Oh fuck." Blaise and his lovers suddenly intoned as one, sensing the two people nearing them that were the last that needed to be there.

"Should we…" Fred started.

"Stop them?" George finished for him, and they slowly shook their heads. There was no way to keep this from them. And they had a right to know.

"Where is she?" The voice of one of their best friend's cut through the trees a second before he did, and they turned revenge-seeking gazes on him and the girl at his heels.

"Gone." Draco said after a long moment, and Anton's disbelieving eyes followed the soul-splitting screams to their source.

A familiar, slender length of wood that he had seen to many times not to recognize. A length of wood that was screaming in a way that he couldn't fail to understand. His eyes turned dead and cold before _he_ screamed, falling to his knees, his fingers clawing into the soil as primal pain ripped at his core. Melody moved for him before he turned and snarled at her, no recognition in those tormented hazel eyes, and she slid backwards, holding her hands up to show that she was unarmed. Her own eyes were brimming with tears as she watched him completely dissemble right in front of them, forgetting his arrogance and haughtiness in the face of such a loss.

"D-Daphne—?" Melody choked out as if she already knew the answer, and their hesitant nods had her tears spilling over. "She—she ran from me earlier. She s-saw us starting a cleansing r-ritual and th-thought—"

"Shh." Virginia crooned, at her side in the blink of an eye, her own pain forgotten in the face of her friend's. Draco and Blaise were already moving for Anton, and they stopped a foot or so away before calling his name softly. He turned those eyes on him, eyes that were slowly morphing from dead to deadly. Something flickered in them when he saw them, and that was all of the acceptance they needed before kneeling beside him and drawing him close.

"Ne tomber pas en désespoir." Draco soothed, tucking a lock of hair behind Anton's ear. "On va annihiler cette edifice avant qu'on lui perde." ((Do not despair. We will rip the place apart stone by stone to find them.))

_If they're even still alive. _The unspoken thought ran through them all, but no one spoke it aloud, not yet.

"Oui." Blaise agreed, lifting Anton's chin with his fingers and meeting those disturbing eyes. "On enchâsserait notre rage sur leurs corps, et le sang coulerait en flaques avant qu'on serait finit." ((We will sate our rage on their captors' flesh, and their blood will coat all before we are finished.))

His relief and gratitude were almost as palpable as his fury.

"What spell is this?" Fred whispered from their side, his eyes locked on the wailing wand. Blaise opened his mouth to reply, but Anton beat him to it, his words full of grief and pain.

"Laurus per Silentium." He said mechanically, moving forward and grabbing Pansy's wand. "Victory by Silence. An old Roman spell that warriors used when they would rather die for being unable to give away any information than forsake their gods and their people. It steals their voice, puts it in whatever object they are currently holding. So now, her wand screams for her since she no longer can. It screams with the voice of a fallen witch. It screams with the voice of my love."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

(sniffles)…Anyway, please, please, please, please review! I posted this chapter two days early _again_ just for you guys!


	25. Broken

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to reviewers for the last chap: tkmoore**, (prays that you'll still speak to me when this chappie's over) Remember: You love me and I love them!** Catalina Royce**, wonderful review as always, my dear! love ya!** Jan**, love ya! please don't kill me when this chappie's over!** cloaked**, (resolutely holding your review spot for you)** aoi-yuki-yume**, (begs you not to completely flip out) Just bear with me! **el**** chikita joules**, as usual, thanks for the awesome review! **jenn**, you're the best! thanks! **sillysun**, thanks! love ya! **SkotosEnigma**, your review was as awesome as your pics! thanks! **angelfire33**, deep breaths…more mira action in this one! **TarynMalfoy88**, thanks! that was, like, the best compliment ever! **Sphinxtress**, thanks! **short**** arse**, sorry it was sad, but it had to be! :) **Haunted-Shadows**, freaking out a little bit there? well, read on! **ForeverLoyal**, no! here's a new chappie, don't go bald! lol **Psi**, thank you!!!! **gin**** rose raposo1**, thanks! sorry it almost made you cry! **nicky**** j**, THANK YOU! **Unforgiven soul**, thanks, I will! **kayla**, there will be no giving of pictures. I'm not completely stupid, and you're a bit stalker-ish. **potts**, sorry I didn't get you in the review response on the last chap, but I got yours right after I'd posted. So, thanks for both! **Abi**, yeah, you could say that…:) **syco3**, THANKS! **kia**, thank you!! **quimbytimmons**, THANK YOU!!!! **brooke**, nooooo, they're not 'too gay', I promise! **Tytianne**, behold the next installment! lol **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, awesome, as usual! thanks! **Voldemort8**, I liked his description too, lol! **me**, thank you soooo much!! **Wicked Not Evil**, thanks!! and I love your name, by the way! :) **Angie**, thanks, I will! **RebbeccaTurner01**, glad to have made that experience better! love ya! **Fallen**, I thought you'd like the song, lol. :P **Iced Faerie**, if you thought _that_ was a cliffy, just wait…:) **babykelyse**, glad you liked it! **fizz-stix**, THANK YOU!!!! **a:****Sam**, they find her, alright…(runs away before you can clobber me) **Georgentosser**, hope you like this one, too!! **mz.sammiz**, here's more! lol

**…………………………………………………………………………………………………**

Blaise stood motionless on the low branch of a tree, his senses spread out in a giant net around the dark, imposing fortress that loomed before them. It was built like an ancient castle, much like Hogwarts and many others, but the foul energy surrounding it definitely set it apart. It felt dark, yes, but it also felt vile in a way that their magick never did. There were guards stationed all around the perimeter, but he wasn't concerned with them. They were easy prey if it came down to it. And he was going to make sure that it did. His rage still churned violently, waiting just under the surface to explode, and he did nothing to dampen it.

Everything was sharply in focus, and he could feel every living thing within Nor Gorgun. Everything with blood flowing through its veins stood out in his mind like a beacon, creating an unseen map inside his skull, behind his eyes. It was like seeing two different things at once, but he was used to it. Draco was on the other side of the fortress, his own mental net meeting Blaise's in the center and melding with it, and they knew that it was almost time. Looking back at the team behind him, he grinned ferally. Blood was going to spill this night. Voldemort should never have taken Pansy. A roll of dark power flowed out of the fortress, and they froze, waiting.

They had discovered from a few of their spies that Voldemort was leaving that night, going to the Americas to try and round up more new followers. Assembling two different teams, they had wasted no time. Dumbledore had told them not to go, that the Aurors would get them back, but what did that old fuck know? The Aurors would die, slowly picked off one by one. They had no idea what to expect, but the Slytherins did. And they weren't leaving Pansy and Daphne's fate in the hands of white magic fools that were too 'noble' to kill. Because there was no way, absolutely _no__ way_, that anyone could break them both out of Nor Gorgun without quite a few people dying.

_Yes, _he thought vehemently, _people will most surely die this night. He shouldn't have fucked with us. _The roll of the Dark Lord's essence finally slid over them and away, not sensing them due to shields forged by Cocidius, which were wrapped tightly over each group. After another ten minutes, Blaise leapt out of the tree and to the ground, landing lightly and motioning his team forward. His hair was pulled back in a single, tight braid so that it didn't get in his eyes at some crucial point or another, falling down his back between the crossed hilts of his swords, and his robes were tight and split down the sides so that he could move around easily.

They all wore graphorn-hide vests underneath to ward off most curses, not that they were too necessary. The amulets had been reinforced when they'd discovered that Pansy's had been ripped off by a tree root, and they'd made them unbreakable. Anton leaned in and laid his head on Blaise's shoulder, his cold, furious eyes sweeping over the enormous mass of black stone in front of them, and Blaise slid an arm around his waist. They were waiting for Draco's signal, and Blaise ran his gaze over the other members of his team. George was standing behind him, his blue eyes bright in the dim light, and Vincent was behind him, twirling a thick, metal club in one hand with anticipation.

Blaise smiled cruelly, as he knew how well Vincent wielded that weapon, and he knew the strength in those bulging arms. Sebastian was off to one side, his sandy blond hair swaying around his face as he braided Mira's, who was busy buffing one of her daggers with her sleeve. Her eyes lifted and met his, and they shared a knowing look. It was almost time. His gaze going back to the fortress, his arm tightened around Anton when he saw the snow in front of them start swirling ever so lightly. No one in the fortress would think anything of it, but Blaise and the others knew what it signified. It was time for the games to begin.

Lifting one arm, his Mark flashed brilliantly, though none of the guards on the wall could see it. He felt an answering tug from the other side of the castle, felt the shields going up. No one inside would be able to call for Voldemort. No one inside would leave alive. And now…now it was time for the fun to start. Sinking to the ground, he took several deep breaths before he let the walls holding his magic back fall into nothing. Everything shifted suddenly, and he was looking down at the castle from above. The wind whipped past him and cradled him, and he called its power to him. Molding it and warping it, he fed his energy into it, just as it fed it's own into him.

A jolt shot through him before Draco's essence intertwined with his for long moments that felt all too fleeting when the time came to separate. Very nearly bursting with collected power, metaphysical lips met metaphysical lips before they were ripped apart and made separate once more. Feeling and hearing the first deafening 'BOOM', Blaise slammed back into his body and rose, electricity crackling over his skin madly as the sky began screaming, seconds before clouds the guards could have sworn weren't there moments ago opened up, soaking everything instantly. The first fork of lightning flashed down and hit the uppermost tower, the wind began howling eerily, and he could feel their fear.

Expanding his senses once more, he could hear their mutterings and frightful exclamations even over the roaring of the rain and the thunder. Good. The storm was to scare them, spook them, fry a few if they were particularly unlucky. But the two teams that converged on the fortress were their deaths. Blaise and Sebastian took care of the first guards on the wall, since Sebastian was quite the expert with a blowgun and Blaise simply liked to throw the tiny, poisoned darts. Four limp bodies tumbled over the low ledge and to the ground, and Blaise let claws slide out of his fingertips before sinking them into the tough stone.

Scaling the wall took only seconds, and he turned and leaned over the ledge, stretching his hand out and picturing the air around his team solidifying. A tug later and they were flying over the wall, landing softly on their feet. Throwing his hand out again, Blaise watched as a bolt of lightning crashed into the top tower again, this time staying for several seconds before he let it go. There. The other team would know they were in. A whirlwind of water spun into the front wall like an anvil, and he knew that the other team was inside as well. Lifting a finger, he became still again, determining where the closest Death Eaters were. Another smile pulled at his lips, and then they were running along the wall for the door that led inside.

The two guards on either side of it died instantly, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Blaise opened his link with Virginia wide and felt her fill him to the brim, seeing what he saw and feeling what he felt. She was riding in Draco as well, and the spell that allowed her to do so had been the only thing that had kept her from following them when they'd left. They'd explained to her that they _were not_ taking her into the Dark Lord's fortress, especially not when she was all that he needed to gain the last of his power back. It had come down to them almost locking her inside their room, but Cocidius had intervened and told them of a spell in the Book of the Ever After.

It allowed her to place her spirit inside of them, joining her power with theirs while she stayed safe within the wards of Slytherin. Padma had undergone the spell as well, and she rode inside the twins while her body rested next to Virginia's inside a circle of protection. Experimentally calling in a handful of flames, Blaise had a moment of fascination when they appeared immediately. He had linked himself with Draco in such a way before, had called in ice and snow, but this was different. It was hot and scorching like his own energy was, but strange in the way that it flickered and coiled even as it reminded him a bit of darkfire. And it felt…feminine. It felt like Virginia.

His passiveness gone as quickly as it had come, he laughed as the next Death Eater was incinerated in seconds. The one after that met just as quick an end, and never even saw it coming as Anton snuck up behind him and slit his throat. The majority of the Death Eaters didn't bother with their masks while inside Nor Gorgun, as most of them thought themselves unreachable there. Not so. Cocidius had gotten them through the wards easily, and Draco and Blaise were almost positive that they could have done it themselves, but it would have taken quite a bit longer. Motioning to his team again, they spilt up, activating their tracking charms in the process.

Anton and George went to the right and down with Blaise, while Vincent, Sebastian and Mira went up. None of them spoke, as words weren't necessary, and they disappeared into the shadows. They had gone on missions like these before, although not at the Dark Lord's fortress, and they knew that they had the skill to wipe out the guards inside. Most were too lazy and careless when inside Nor Gorgun to be any sort of challenge. They just needed to be out before Voldemort returned, which wouldn't be for a good while yet. Their spies had made their excuses that night, and none were in the building, so they didn't have to worry about running into any of them.

They left quite a trail of bodies after them, not bothering to hide them in the least. It was quite the opposite actually. It was a…statement. If the Dark Lord wanted to play games, then they'd play fucking games. They were quite good at them, after all. He idly wondered, as his teeth sank into a Death Eater's flesh, how angry Voldemort would be when he found out that his followers had been slaughtered by a group of sixth and seventh years. Arranging the man's corpse dramatically over the stairway, they continued down, killing everything that breathed except for the dark creatures that Blaise was able to turn to their side.

Their purge included the muggles that were kept prisoner in a thousand different places all over the fortress, and it was mercy killings more than anything else. They actually felt a bit sorry for the twisted, abused creatures that they saw nearly every time they turned around. Many were missing limbs and eyes, fingers and tongues. All they did was mewl and cower, their minds long broken. It was quite pathetic. A few of them could still string a few words together, and they begged for death's release. He'd known that muggles were weak, and those just confirmed it. Any pureblood would have been able to let go and die, turning their magick against themselves, if their situation had been as hopeless.

His body was already covered in a fine layer of blood, his hands sticky with it, but that didn't impair his shooting at all, and his bow sung as he let three arrows go in quick succession. Two more wizards and a witch slumped to the ground that time, and he allowed himself another smile at their brief looks of disbelief. Fools. They knew who their master held, didn't they? Because if they did, they really should have expected something like this. Or maybe not. Nor Gorgun was supposed to be as impenetrable as the Manor and Tenebre Stella. Hah. Millennia of protection spells had been forged into the very stones and earth of their House Seats by the most powerful witches and wizards of the ages.

No one could duplicate that, he knew with a flash of pride, his sword taking off a Death Eater's head, warm blood spraying his face. Especially not a single Dark Lord. _Or four_, his mind corrected, remembering the prophecy the Lady had let Virginia hear. He sincerely hoped that he ran into one of them. A newly awoken fledgling Dark Lord would be quite a bit of fun to toy with. And even if the three newbies _had_ helped ward Nor Gorgun, the defenses still couldn't match theirs. Both of their families had had plenty of Dark Lords of their own, after all. They were almost to the ground floor when Anton stiffened, his pupil's splitting into his Animagus form's and his breath escaping him in a hiss.

"I can _feel_ her." He said quietly, his eyes distant. "She hurts, she's in so much pain…Oh gods…" He turned green remarkably quickly and would have fallen to his knees had Blaise not caught him and let them both sink to the floor gently. He was obviously trying his damnedest not to be ill, his body shaking and his eyes wild.

"Let the link go." Blaise whispered next to his ear. "Let it go, Anton. I'll find her, I swear it, now _let it go!_" Pushing calming energy into his friend, he felt the shaking stop after a moment, felt his breathing even out. They stayed that way for over a minute, and George's hand lighted on Blaise's back, sending Padma's soothing touch through him and into Anton. Finally, that dark head lifted, and utterly enraged hazel eyes met his own.

"Take me to her."

Four simple words, but they rocked Blaise to the core. Anton had sounded so ragged, so lost, and yet his utter faith that Blaise would never fail him shone through it all. And he wouldn't. Looking at one of the few people that he truly cared for, that he would die for, he promised himself then and there that he would return Anton's love to him at all costs. Because that's what she was. He could see the telltale glint deep in his friend's eyes, had just observed their connection. _Soulmates_, he thought distantly, recognizing them for what they were. He and Draco had experienced it with each other and with Virginia, after all. And there was no other way that Anton could have linked to Pansy like that, since he knew that they hadn't taken their marriage vows yet.

"Always, mon ami." He replied, rising to his feet and pulling Anton up with him. Laying a chaste kiss on his lips, Blaise continued. "Let us go save your lady, hmm?" Anton managed a small, grateful smile. ((my friend))

"Thank yo—" Anton started, before stopping abruptly as a dagger flew past his head. It stuck in something with a wet 'thwap', and they both turned to see a Death Eater fall about twenty yards down the hall before they looked back at George and stared.

"What?" He asked innocently. "I have yet to hear a Slytherin say 'thank you' for anything, and I saw no reason to start now." He said cheekily, ignoring their glares as he summoned his knife.

They continued in silence for a while, Blaise letting his senses spread out and envelop all again. It was easier to try and find Pansy and Daphne now that they were inside, and after three or four minutes of scanning the place from top to bottom, he pinpointed them to be somewhere below them, at least six floors underground. There were more Death Eaters the lower they went, as well as more of the hapless, deformed muggles, and all died silently. Except for those in one room, a large group of ten or eleven. They screamed and cast curse after curse, but every one of them fell to their fury. They hadn't stood a chance since Blaise and Draco's teams had swarmed over the walls.

"This way." A voice suddenly intoned from behind them in the doorway, and Blaise spun with an arrow already drawn and ready, since he'd heard their stealthy approach. He stopped just as he was about to let it go, and watched the woman in the doorway warily. He really didn't want to kill her, but if she tried to raise the alarm…"Come, I will take you to her." The witch continued, but Blaise didn't lower his bow.

"And why should we trust _you_, Bella?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lycelle paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her eyes red and stinging from crying. They had Pansy. They had Pansy. _Voldemort_ had her sister. Every once in a while, she'd glance over at the group of sixth and seventh years that were getting ready to go after her, arming themselves from head to foot and trading caustic jokes so that their younger Housemates, who watched them with wide, nervous eyes, wouldn't be too frightened. _Fat chance of that_, she thought morosely. Her eyes turned to Virginia and Padma, both of whom were preparing circles of protection and warding.

Virginia had been so angry when her request to go to Nor Gorgun had been denied that Lycelle had thought she was going to bring the castle down around their heads. Cocidius's timely intervention had been the only thing that had stopped her from completely exploding, and Lycelle was quite thankful for it. Padma had decided to stay behind as well, because they all knew that Virginia wouldn't have taken it well if she'd been allowed to go. Ripping her eyes away, she glanced at Draco and Blaise. They were hiding daggers and poisoned darts all over themselves, and she lost count after the fifteenth blade disappeared into Draco's robes.

Severus stood to the side of all of the busy movement in the center of the room, a scowl on his face that could have melted glass. He was not pleased with Draco and Blaise's decision, but he had agreed to shield their actions from Dumbledore after they'd threatened to sneak out past _his_ guard as well. Knowing that that was all too possible from past experience, he'd reluctantly caved and promised to watch over Virginia and Padma once they'd gone inside the circles and activated the spell. So now, he was fulfilling his role as the disapproving godfather, and he didn't look like he was planning on stopping anytime soon.

"Let's go." She heard Blaise say, and her attention went back to him.

He and the others were dressed alike and all in black, their faces set in determined masks. She knew that if anyone could bring her sister back, it would be the people right in front of her. But she couldn't help wondering if something would go wrong. She couldn't help wondering if she would never see any of them again. Virginia rose to her feet slowly, as did Padma, and they walked over to where the others were preparing to leave. Unshed tears shimmered in their eyes, and she knew that they feared the same things that she did. Padma kissed both Draco and Blaise on the cheek before turning to the twins, and Virginia looked at her lovers with growing panic.

Her boyfriends seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and they drew her into their arms at once, their fingers running through her curls as they whispered reassuring words in the old tongue. _They look like assassins_, Lycelle thought absently, _like death given form. They really do care about my sister. But I wonder if they would be able to stay so calm if it were __Virginia__ trapped by that fiend? _She turned away just in time to see the twins murmur something to Padma that had her blushing ever so lightly, her eyes widening fractionally with surprise and…delight? Shaking her head, Lycelle told herself that she could figure that out later.

"Come back to me." Virginia said softly, pulling back and looking them in the eyes. "Promise me that you'll come back. _Promise me_." She demanded, her hands tightening around their robes, which she was hanging onto as if they were a lifeline.

"We promise." They said in unison, gracing her with small, indulging smiles. "Now, stop worrying so. You'll be with us the entire time, remember?"

"Yes." She responded, and she kissed them each voraciously before letting them go and turning her back so that she wouldn't have to see them leave. "Je t'aime." ((I love you.))

"Je t'aime aussi." They replied, running their fingers through her hair one last time before they both turned on a heel and left, heading for Severus's office to floo out of the castle. ((I love you, too.))

The others who were going followed them, and Severus ushered the younger students into their dorm rooms while those that were left fell into chairs and cushions, couches and divans. He didn't make Lycelle leave, it was her sister they were going for after all, and he even handed her a goblet full of wine to soothe her nerves. Downing half of it without even thinking, she kept pacing, and would have continued to do so had Padma not pulled her down next to her and Virginia. Feeling instantly better as soon as Padma touched her, she drained the rest of her wine and let the goblet fall from her fingers to the thick, black rug underneath them.

"Would you like to help?" Padma asked, while Virginia stared blankly at the wall, having fallen into a cross-legged position as soon her lovers had disappeared out of the common room. Lycelle knew that Padma was asking her to distract her, and she thanked the older girl silently.

"Alright. What do you want me to do?"

"Well…" Padma looked around thoughtfully. "You asked Hermione to come down in a little bit, didn't you?" She asked, and Lycelle looked over at her quickly. How did she know about that?

"Umm…Yes." She said after a moment, wondering if she was about to be told off for it.

"Okay. Then why don't you help me get the rest of the stuff for the spell ready? We'll be in the circles by the time she gets here, and it'll keep you occupied until then." Padma said neutrally, as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other.

Lycelle nodded, and they got to work without another word. The circles had to be drawn with the blood of six willing virgins, and they had, sadly enough, had to bribe and threaten some first and second year Hufflepuffs, since no one in their House had qualified. In the end, they'd been willing enough (depending on your idea of the word), and she and Padma dipped their fingers into the ever-fresh jar that was brimming with the thick red fluid, beginning the outer circle and conferring with a book that's title was hidden and that made Lycelle's spine crawl. They left a foot wide gap in the circle's perimeter, and began on the next, and then the next.

The circles interwove with each other, and only long years of practice made the lines so smooth and perfect. They'd been drawing circles for their parents for practice long before they ever needed one of their own, and it was natural to feel her fingers sweeping over marble (they'd moved the rugs), natural to feel little bits of her magic flowing into it unconsciously. Once all three circles were done, they moved on to the runes, and Lycelle jumped when her arm bumped into someone else and she looked up to see Virginia. Her smoky eyes were hard and intent, her fear for her lovers shoved back so that she could do what was necessary.

"We can finish this, Virginia." Lycelle said quietly. "_Really_. You don't have to, I mean—"

"I _need_ to, alright?" She interrupted, those fathomless charcoal eyes boring into hers. Lycelle nodded slowly.

"They _will_ come back, you know." She said, starting another rune and lowering her gaze to the floor. She liked Virginia, but the girl was too…_dark_ for her to meet her eyes for long. It was like that with most of the older Slytherins, and with the twins and Padma, too. It just showed how different she was from them. Nearly everything did.

"They'd better." Was all that the older girl said, going back to tracing runes on the floor.

They lapsed into silence again, and ten minutes later, they were done. Lycelle moved backwards and out of the circles, while Virginia and Padma moved to their center with the strange, unnerving book. Another ten minutes passed before they grabbed their forearms and shut their eyes, mumbling words in a language that Lycelle didn't recognize, which was rare. They began to glow with a soft, faint, blue-black light, and Lycelle moved over to let Severus close the outer circle with his wand. Three shields the color of the blood on the ground sprung up along the circles' lines and closed over the two older girls' heads, wavering before evening out and becoming still.

"They'll be alright, won't they?" She asked no one in particular, but Severus answered her as he moved to one of the couches.

"Virginia and Padma? Yes, they'll be fine. And probably weak depending on how much energy they feed into the boys."

_Boys, _Lycelle swirled the word around in her head. Somehow, it just didn't fit. The twins, Draco, and Blaise were all past their majorities, so they definitely weren't _boys_. But calling them men seemed strange as well when you pictured them, since 'men' in her mind looked much older, and they were eternally youthful. But how could anyone look into their eyes and still manage to call them 'boys'? Because Draco and Blaise's eyes hadn't been young or childish in any way for longer than she could remember, if they ever had been, and the twins had a new depth in their own as well. You could get lost in those eyes; could go utterly mad from staring into them for too long.

"Someone comes." Severus said suddenly, shaking her from her thoughts. She stood quickly, moving for the wall where the entrance was.

"I'll see who it is." She called over her shoulder, her wand out and ready in case it wasn't Hermione. But it was, and she let the other girl in, not missing Severus's poisonous glare. He wouldn't throw her out, though, not while the Gryffindor girl could still claim Virginia as a friend. Hermione's eyes became huge when she saw the warded circles, and she couldn't stop her questions from pouring out.

"What are they doing?"

"I can't tell you."

"Where are the others? Do they know what they're doing?"

"I can't tell you."

"Is it dangerous? It doesn't have to do with Voldemort, does it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can you tell me _anything_?" Hermione huffed, and Lycelle smirked humorlessly.

"Not really." She said as they sat on a divan that was across the room from Severus but still close to Virginia and Padma.

"Oh lord; it has to do with Pansy, doesn't it?" Hermione asked, and Lycelle had to give the girl points for her quickness. It had been two days since her sister had gone missing, and the incident had been hushed up so far, since Dumbledore didn't want the students to panic. She knew that he wouldn't be able to stop her Housemates from telling the entire world, though, if Pansy or Daphne died.

"I can't—"

"I know, I know." Hermione grumped, looking positively bursting with curiosity. Well, Lycelle couldn't help her there. Nothing was worth what would happen if her Housemates suspected she was leaking _anyone_ information without their consent. "I'm really sorry about your sister, you know."

"I know, Hermione." Lycelle agreed, wrinkling her nose at the other girl and making her grin. "You've only told me about a thousand times in the last forty-eight hours."

"Well, I am. I know Pansy and I don't get along so well—"

"She hates you."

Hermione paused. "Right. But I still don't want anything to happen to her."

"Why?" Lycelle asked, honestly curious. "Why should you care what happens to someone who wouldn't care if you suddenly fell over dead?" It was a hard concept for her to grasp. It was a hard concept for _any_ Slytherin to grasp. She was one of them enough to know _that_, at least.

"Because…because it's the _right_ thing to do." Hermione finally responded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "It's the _humane_ thing to do."

Lycelle bristled. "Well, _I_ don't think so. Does that make me inhuman?" Hermione looked startled.

"What? No, of course it doesn't. I mean, you were raised—"

"Never mind." Lycelle cut her off, sighing. "Let's just drop it, okay? If we want to stay friends, there are probably some subjects that we just shouldn't discuss." Hermione gave her a weird look, before grinning and nodding.

"Alright. Forget it then." They sat in companionable silence for a long time after that, both lost in their own thoughts.

Lycelle couldn't help but compare herself and Hermione in her head. They were so alike, but so very bloody different at the same time that it was mind-boggling. Most would say that their friendship had no hope of lasting, and Lycelle would probably agree with them. It was just…_ludicrous_ to think that they would be able to stay the way they were forever. They came from completely different, not to mention completely _clashing_, backgrounds, her sister hated her, all of her other friends hated her, and her family would freak and probably disown her (she was the second-born, after all, and _weak_ when compared with her sister, as her parents so loved to remind her).

And while it was true that they were both different from the rest of their Housemates, they were each still loyal to their House. It wasn't that hard for Virginia and Padma to cut all ties with their own, but neither of them had ever really been meant for those Houses to begin with, had belonged even less than they did. And Lycelle and Hermione _had_ been meant for their separate, rival Houses. It was sure to come between them eventually. She didn't know how long she sat there going over all of the foreseeable possibilities, but she knew it had been a pretty long time when she looked over to find Hermione asleep, curled up on the end of the divan.

"Oops." She murmured to herself, stretching.

Looking around, she saw that Severus was still diligently watching the two older girls, and it didn't appear that he'd moved so much as an inch. She stood and went to sit beside him, since it made her feel safer. Severus had always looked out for his Slytherins, and he was like a second father to most of them. They were with him more than they were their own parents, after all, and he had seen them all through some very hard times, and through the simpler, typical-teenage ones as well. The Slytherins looked to Draco and Blaise for leadership and action, but they looked to Severus for guidance and stability. Their respect for him ran deep.

"I really wish you wouldn't bring her here." He said as soon as she sat, still not moving his eyes off the girls in the circles. She felt bad instantly, but she didn't want to give in, either. Because if she did, it would just confirm their suspicions that she was meek and easily led. And she _was_, in a way, which made it even worse. But she was _different_. Gods, how she was starting to hate that word.

"I know, and I'm s—" Catching herself just in time before the apology slid from her lips, she tried again. "She's my friend. And Virginia's." She added the latter for good measure, but he saw right through it, as usual. And without even looking at her. That was Severus for you.

"She's a mudblooded Gryffindor." He said bluntly. "She can never really be your friend." He was practically voicing her own thoughts aloud, and she wished he would stop.

"But she is." She argued, and he _did_ turn to look at her then.

"Lycelle, I know you never fit in here like the others." He started, and she really, _really_ wished he would stop now. "But you're still a Slytherin. You may not be the ideal Slytherin, but—"

A bright flash of light and an unearthly shriek cut him off, and they whirled around to see the shields around the circles swirling and twisting. Padma was holding Virginia, tears running down her face as she did so, while the redheaded girl screamed and screamed, trying to break free. She was too weak, though, and all she could do was wail, one heartbreaking keen after another that had Lycelle running for her, tears streaming down her own cheeks before she even knew what was wrong. Virginia looked like her soul was being ripped out with jagged, rusty hooks, and Severus was desperately trying to break the raging circles.

Padma didn't seem to be able to do more than rock back and forth with Virginia in her arms, trying to restrain her and keep her in the circles. She looked stunned and shell-shocked, and a bit like she'd just been torn in half. Virginia, though…Virginia was wilting right before her eyes, her hair lightening to a dull auburn, the curls coming loose and hanging limply in sweaty strands around her face. Her skin turned a pasty gray, her lips losing all of their color and fullness, and dark, sick-looking circles appeared around her eyes. A loud crash from the other side of the room had Lycelle turning, and when she saw what had caused it, she nearly fainted.

The altar in the corner had erupted in a fountain of…_blood?_ Yes, that was _definitely_ blood. Nothing else smelt like that. It was coating everything, and it had knocked all of the offerings and candles off, which is what had made the noise. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Spinning back around to face Virginia and Padma, she nearly fainted when she saw that they'd pulled their sleeves up. That in itself wasn't what made her lungs feel tight with dread. No, what did that was the fact that the Marks on their arms were dying, withering, their light going out. But it still wasn't until she lifted her head and met Virginia's eyes that Lycelle felt the world drop out from underneath her.

Because Virginia Weasley was going mad, and that could mean only one thing. Draco and Blaise were dead and her god was gone.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco moved swiftly through the empty corridors, winding farther and farther into the heart of Nor Gorgun with every step. Fred and Melody shadowed him, and Gregory, Millicent and Marcello were on their way to meet them with Vincent, Sebastian and Mira. He was seeking Blaise out at the moment, as the time had come for their teams to join before they went even deeper to get Pansy and Daphne. His senses told him that the guards around where the two of them were being held, and a few wandering others, were the only Death Eaters still alive. They had been quite thorough in their purge. His team met with its other half and with the other three from Blaise's, and they started down again. Hearing voices up ahead of him, he slowed, as did the others.

"This way. Come, I will take you to her." He knew that voice.

"And why should we trust _you_, Bella?" And he would know _that_ voice even in death. Creeping forward, he closed his eyes and concentrated, listening to them carefully and letting the sound waves that they produced with every tiny movement create a picture of them and their surroundings in his mind. Blaise stood with his bow ready, an arrow nocked and ready to fly, and Draco knew that he would use it if he had to. Because Bella was tricky and sly, even in her insanity, and only a fool would let his guard down around her. Blaise was anything but a fool.

"You shouldn't." Bella replied, her raspy, sultry voice reminding him of broken, fluttering butterfly wings. "But I'll still take you to her."

"This isn't a time for bullshit, Bella." Blaise said evenly, just the slightest hint of a threat in his voice. She'd known them for to long not to recognize it. They'd visited her as often as they had Sirius.

"I'm aware of that, beloved of my nephew." She said in her singsong voice.

"Then don't try anything stupid." Blaise responded dryly. "And what happened? I thought you adored your mudblood master."

"No one ever truly masters a Black." She said, and Draco couldn't help a small smirk. "And he has angered me." Her voice turned pouty and slightly putout.

"Did he now?" Blaise questioned, everything about him utterly still but for his lips, his concentration never wavering. "And how is that, dear Bella?"

"He took the girl." She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was. "He took your little friend. Your _pure_ friend. She reminds me of me, you know." Now that twittering voice had gone dreamy, changing with her mood, which was as flighty as the wind. "And she's such a pretty little thing. Or she was, anyway." She added, and Draco felt his insides grow cold in a way that had nothing to do with his cherished ice.

"Was? She's not dead." Blaise said, his voice sure.

"No, not dead." Bella agreed. "Not dead _yet_, anyway. She wouldn't talk, you see, and his judgment leaves him when he gets angry. And he was so very angry then…"

"Show me!" Blaise snapped. "Take us to her or get out of our way!"

"Now, there's no reason to get snappy." Bella huffed. "I _said_ I'd take you, and I will. But I want to see my nephew and—" Draco moved into the hallway before Blaise or Anton came completely unglued.

"I'm here, Auntie." He said, and she spun, the smirk on her face turning into a soft smile as she looked him up and down.

"How very Malfoy you've become. And how very Black, at the same time." She said, holding her hands out to him. He went to her and took them, kissing each of her cheeks and leaving bloody lip-prints as a reminder. Blaise's bow was still steadily trained at her heart, and since she and he both knew it, he didn't worry about her trying anything just yet, if she planned to at all. She'd sounded genuinely upset. Well, as genuine as Bella ever was.

"Take us to her, Auntie. Take us to the pure witch that reminds you of yourself." Draco crooned, and Bella smiled again, her eyes as black as her hair, as black as her name. She was night where his mother was day, but their faces were almost identical. They were barely a year apart in age, and had been the best of friends before Voldemort had snapped Bella's mind. There were still vestiges of her old self that shone through, though, and they usually appeared when she was around family.

"Yes. Come with me." She said, and started down the hallway.

He shared a look with Blaise before continuing at her side, and his lover followed with the others, his bow still raised and ready. He could hold it like that forever if need be, Draco knew, and the arrow would kill Bella before she could get him with a knife or her wand. She led them silently down the hall, the only noises being the storm outside and her occasional girlish giggles. Yeah, Bella had definitely lost it. They'd gone down two more floors when she stopped in front of a door that he could sense a small group of Death Eaters in, and tilted her head to the side. She leaned in close to his ear, her crimson lips hovering just over the skin, and whispered.

"There's another one in there that he got the same night. You interested?"

"Yes." Draco replied, moving away the slightest bit when she flicked her tongue out. The subtle, yet potentially deadly, creaking of a bowstring seemed to bring her back to reality, and she pulled away, grinning like a lunatic once more. Sometimes she forgot that the bloodlines didn't intermingle so closely. Sometimes she just forgot everything entirely.

"Open the door." Blaise said calmly.

He knew the way she worked as well as Draco. Bella had to be handled with extreme caution, and not many people could tell her what to do. But she would listen to them, and to her sister, and she usually listened to Voldemort. So she did as he said and swung the door open, sauntering in and waving at the other Death Eaters. They slunk back from her, all of their attention on her, and it proved quite fatal. Draco went through the door after her first, and relished the looks of dawning terror on their faces as they saw his glowing eyes and mocking sneer. The first died in a blast of lethal ice, the next in a wall of flames, and the third fell beneath his claws.

He moved to the side smoothly as the first arrows whizzed into the room, two Death Eaters falling bonelessly to the floor a split second later, arrow shafts sticking out of their throats almost comically. One tried to run, but Melody was on him in a heartbeat, her short sword sliding between his ribs like a child would impale an insect. Only two still stood, and Marcello and Vincent moved toward them before they could even get their wits about them enough to try and throw a curse. Vincent's club smashed into one's skull, while Marcello swung the bladed staff in his hands expertly, taking out the last one's legs before happily removing his head for him.

"Where is she?" Melody asked, looking around and not seeing Daphne anywhere. "_Where is she!?_" She repeated, her voice becoming frantic.

"In there." Draco said after a moment of searching, nodding at a side door.

He shared another look with Blaise, before he moved for the door and Blaise kept watch over Bella and the doorway that led to the hall. Melody tried to follow him, but he motioned her back. She didn't listen, and he nodded at Sebastian and Mira to grab her. He could feel the agony radiating from that side room, and he didn't want Melody to see what was behind that door just yet. Maybe not at all. He didn't even really want to see it, but that didn't stop him from throwing open the door, one of his hatchets in his hand and ready to throw. He stopped dead at what he saw. There was only one Death Eater in the room, but he was doing more damage than any of the others.

Daphne was strapped to a rickety old bed, the restraints rubbing her wrists and ankles raw and a gag stifling any screams that she might have let loose. But she wasn't screaming then, just staring blankly at the ceiling as the bastard on top of her shoved himself inside her roughly over and over again, grunting and panting barbarically. He didn't even feel himself move before he'd already ripped the half-nude wizard off of her and thrown him into the far wall. He stalked up to him, every sense on overdrive, enjoying the raw fear in the man's eyes when he lifted his head blearily and saw who came for him. His hatchet came down for the first strike just as a scream spilt the air.

"NO! LET GO OF ME! _LET GO OF ME_, GODDAMNIT!" Melody yelled as his blade cleanly cut off the Death Eater's left hand.

The other hand followed it, then his feet, his arms, his legs…And his screams were the sweetest symphony this side of the Summerland. Leaving him a bleeding, dying torso, Draco turned, not really wanting to look at the girl on the bed. But then again, he'd done a lot of things that he hadn't really wanted to do, and he looked all the same, wiping his hatchet off on his robes methodically. Daphne still lay catatonic on the bloody sheets, her thighs and breasts and…well, just about _everything_ sticky with the dark red fluid. There were numerous welts and bruises and cuts marring her once smooth skin, and Melody was on her knees beside her, sobbing brokenly as she tried to cover her with the dripping sheet.

"Who is she?" Bella asked quietly, nudging Blaise with one velvet-clad arm. He turned vicious indigo eyes on her, and didn't object when she took his hand and gave it a motherly pat.

"Daphne Wilbrige." Blaise said after a moment, and Bella's eyes widened in denial.

"No."

"Yes." He hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, turning her to face Daphne. "_Yes_, Bella. See what your master has wrought? See what he is _doing_? That is no muggle before you; that is no mudblood. That is a _Wilbrige_, Bellatrix Black, kin of your kin through Rodolphus. That is a strong, dark pureblood that he's let this happen to, and another lies just around the corner. Who was your best friend again besides Narcissa? Célina Parkinson? Yet where does her daughter lie, Bella? Hmm? _Where does her daughter lie?_"

"I—" Bella seemed utterly transfixed by whatever she saw in Blaise's eyes, and a war began behind her own. She sank to the floor, a thin layer of sweat springing up over her skin as she began trembling violently. Blaise lowered himself next to her, letting her fall into his arms. Knowing that it was now or never, Draco took the chance that he'd been waiting years for. Seeing Daphne, finding out who she was, had shocked Bella badly enough for her to push the Bane's veiling fog back, and he didn't plan to waste the opportunity it presented. Going to her side, he crouched in front of her and made her look him in the eyes.

"_You are a Black_." He stressed, staring deep into those mad, haunted eyes. "You come from an ancient, noble House and every drop of blood in your veins couldn't be any purer. Remember who you _are_, Bellatrix Phae. Remember _what_ you are. You are strong, strong enough to push back the taint. Smash it, tante, smash it like you've always smashed anything that challenged you and tried to best you. We will help you heal, I swear it, but you must _fight_. You must fight or be his slave until you die." ((aunt))

A million things ran behind her blacker-than-black eyes, a million emotions and feelings that she hadn't experienced in nearly two decades. He fed strengthening energy into her, felt Blaise doing the same, and he saw lucidity enter those gorgeous eyes for the first time in his life. Something that he'd only seen bits and pieces of before flooded into them, something so undeniably _Bella_ that he felt like crowing with joy, even as his rage still ate at him brutally. Their time was running out, and he didn't have any more to help her just yet. But he _would_, because she was family, and they'd always loved each other in their own way.

"Come on, beautiful." He said quietly, and her eyes filled with such instantaneous guilt and horror that he almost flinched back. She scrabbled for her sleeve, ripping it off in her haste and screaming when she saw the black, scabby skull on her porcelain flesh. She clawed at it violently until Blaise grabbed her wrists, rising to his feet and pulling her writhing form up with him.

"_I'll kill him!_" She shrieked, fighting to get free. But Blaise's grip stayed like iron, and all she could do was rage verbally. "I'll fucking _kill_ that half-blood bastard for Marking me! How _dare_ he? How _dare_ he!? Gods, I feel so dirty, so dirty…You have to get me clean, neveu, you have to get me clean…" She said, her struggles finally ceasing as she fell into a dazed state, the shock becoming too much for her new, fragile hold on some sort of sanity and clarity. ((nephew))

"Give her to Vincent." Draco intoned, looking at his aunt as he slid his hatchet back it its sheathe. "We have to get Pansy and get out of here."

"I'll carry Daphne." Gregory offered, and Melody opened her mouth to refuse before nodding slightly and standing, her whole body still shaking with sobs. Mira was beside her, her arm around her waist, and Gregory and Vincent each picked up their charges easily. Anton was standing stock-still, staring at the bloody sheets on the bed, and Draco and Blaise went to his side.

"Come, mon ami." Draco said, taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

Blaise stayed right behind them, his eyes and senses scanning everything, and the others followed, Melody walking beside Gregory so that she could hold Daphne's limp hand. Five more Death Eaters died before they reached a short hallway that was filled with Pansy's scent. Only two doors were in the small corridor, one a plain wooden one that they knew she was behind, and another that was made out of intricately worked silver, runes of death and plague, disease and extermination carved into it. Making as wide a circle around that one as they could, they were in the room that held Pansy moments later.

He and Anton were the first through the door, and no one moved for a long moment as they took in the scene in front of them. Draco felt Virginia's rage blossom throughout him, and he let it. Pansy's broken body was curled up on a small, run-down bed much like the one Daphne had been on, and her eyes were glazed and dull, staring ceaselessly at the far wall. Her arms had been shattered, her legs had been shattered, her face was a pulpy mess, and lacerations and abrasions covered her slight form. Her nails had been ripped out, and large patches of skin were gone from various parts of her, as if she'd been carved on with a dull knife. A piece of thick chain was wrapped around her throat like a leash, bolted to the floor underneath the cot.

His fury turning absolutely freezing, he started to move forward when Anton exploded. Quite literally. The dark-haired Slytherin fell to his knees, his eyes locked on his fiancé, and the surprised Death Eaters just stared for a moment. A moment that killed them. Because Anton started glowing darkly in a way that he'd never seen his friend do before, his hazel eyes turning as black as Bella's before a blast of magick mushroomed out from around him. It killed everything in the room instantly but for his lover and his friends, whom Draco had thrown a shield over as soon as he'd realized what was happening.

One by one, the Death Eaters fell, their bodies crumbling into ash as the darkfire ate them from head to foot in seconds. Anton slumped to the ground with them, utterly drained, and Draco caught him before he could hit the filthy floor. His whole body was convulsing, his eyes still black and sightless, and Draco could do nothing but croon and soothe him, Blaise joining them and mimicking his actions. The first time that they'd expended so much wandless magick at once it had been much the same, after all. The body wasn't used to it, and the power of unfiltered magick in your veins was quite overwhelming, especially for one who'd never experienced it before.

"Sweet Merlin…" He heard Mira breathe out from behind them, and he cocked his head enough to see her examining the room and the ash piles with narrowed eyes. Everyone else but Bella and Daphne were doing much the same, before their eyes were slowly but surely drawn to Anton. There was something new in their gazes, just the tiniest hint of fear, and Draco almost smiled. He could still vividly recall the first time that they had looked at him and Blaise like that, but now was not the time for reminiscing.

'_Blaise,_ _stay with him, alright?_' He asked quietly through the Marks, and Blaise nodded, taking Anton fully into his embrace.

He kissed both his lover and his best friend briefly on the lips before moving towards Pansy's shaking form. He knelt beside the cot and moved into her line of sight, if she could even see anything. But, apparently, she could, considering that she scrambled backwards so fast that the ruined, flayed skin on her back hit the wall hard, causing her to whimper. Her tormented eyes slowly turned to him, and she stared at him for a minute that stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. Then she sobbed once, opening her mouth to speak with a voice she no longer had, and he was very nearly sick for the first time that he could ever remember.

They'd cut out her tongue.

Sending an urgent plea down his link to Blaise, he told him to keep Anton _away_ at all costs while he tried to leash Virginia's burning outrage and ire and his own nausea. He'd done worse things to people, and had seen much, _much_ worse things done to people, but watching a girl who was like his sister struggle with a grisly, macabre attempt at speech, the black stub of what had once been a sharp, elegant tongue just visible, was something that even _he_ had a hard time stomaching. _Especially_ with Virginia's own pain and feelings of sickness swamping him. It had only been two seconds, maybe three, since Pansy had first tried to talk, and she snapped her mouth shut just as quickly.

More glad than he could say for his years upon years of facial control, he kept the horror that he felt at seeing her in such a state locked deep inside, and held his arms out to her. She hesitated, her eyes flickering from side to side like a trapped cat, which she had been, in a way. Then those deathlike eyes locked onto him again, and she threw herself at him, her thin, broken arms trying to wrap around his neck and failing. He gathered her up gently, cooing soft words in her ear and sending healing energy into her, deadening her nerves to the point of feeling no pain as he snapped the collar off with one hand. No physical pain that is. He could sense and smell the potions running through her bloodstream, and knew that she'd thought she'd been here much longer than she actually was.

"We're going to get you out of here, darling. Anton's here, too. He killed all of the bastards who hurt you. There's nothing to worry about anymore, hmm? Come on, lovely, let me take you away." He whispered, lifting her carefully and trying not to think about her blood running over his hands. He wished, at that moment, for nothing more than to crack Voldemort's skull open and feed the insides to his dogs. Slowly.

Blaise was standing to the side, Anton in his arms and his eyes trained on Pansy. There was murder in those indigo orbs, murder and torture and crackling fury, and one glance was all it took to know that they would be coming back for that bastard later. Their main priority at the moment, however, was getting their friends back to Hogwarts safely where they could heal them. Or heal what they could, anyway. They'd barely made it out to the hallway when he felt it. Something behind that silver door was moving closer, something divine and…foul. There was a startlingly clear moment during which Cocidius's voice blossomed in their minds, before everything fell apart.

'_Flee! Get away as quickly as you can! You _must_ get awa—_'

And then, in a move that let him and Blaise staggering and gasping, their Marks went dead and silent. They could still feel Virginia faintly through the spell, the link stretched too far and almost snapping, and they lifted their heads to meet the twins' nervous eyes. Simultaneously, they handed Pansy and Anton over to them and started pushing everyone down the hallway. Hearing the door slamming open behind them and knowing that their time was up, he and Blaise threw out the portal stones they'd made to get them out and watched them smash open on the ground. A black hole opened up in midair, spinning and spinning as it got larger, the air beginning to whip around it.

They started shoving their friends through before they could protest or complain, and they almost had them all in when a bolt of energy came soaring at the twins, Pansy and Anton. Not thinking, only knowing that they had to get them safe and keep them together, they jumped in front of the energy blast and pushed them through just as they were hit and the portal closed. Feeling as if he were being torn into pieces, he fell to his knees hard beside Blaise and made himself look up. A god stood before them, there was nothing else that it could be, and it wore the most menacing, satisfied expression that they had ever seen.

Recognizing the death sentence in its phantasmal eyes, they clasped each other's hand tightly, watching emotionlessly as it advanced. There was no fighting a god, they knew that. And their Marks were inactive, which meant that something had befallen Cocidius. They had no choice but to meet their deaths with open eyes and a sense of victory, knowing that their friends were safe. Virginia passed through their thoughts, coating them and enveloping them in her essence, and they knew an entire world of grief in mere seconds. Then the god was on them, its enormous hands snatching them up and burning through their robes and clothes. They last thing they knew before blackness claimed them was Virginia's agonized scream as the link shattered.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Cocidius roared as the constraining power of the Sky Court enveloped him in chains of sunlight and magma. _Traitors!_ He thought viciously, straining at the magical bonds that held him. He had time only to send a warning to his Chosen before he felt their connection snap, and a well of emptiness filled him from head to foot, weakening his resolve. _No_, he thought furiously. _No! I will not let them die!_ His struggles beginning anew, he tried to call out to the Lady before he remembered that She had sunken too far into the void. How could the Light royals have betrayed him like this? They knew it would mean war between the Courts!

His father, Hades, Osirus…None of them would stand for this, and they _knew_ that! If they found him, it would mean war. If he broke free himself, it would mean war. If his Chosen were harmed in any way, it would mean war. Surely they were not so foolish? Testing his bonds again, he knew that he could escape them. But he would have to lose himself in visions, gathering the whole of his power to him before releasing it. It could take a day, a week, a month, but what was time where he was? He started to let himself ease into a trance, when he felt a small ripple. Virginia had used one of her wishes. She was asking for…Damn it! He could barely feel her.

No, wait; there it was again…She was wishing for her lovers to return to her. Her heartbreak fueling his rage, he sent out a wild thought to the Sky Court royals. It promised revenge, promised retribution, and he felt their fear. Not concentrating long enough to scan their thoughts, he began his trance again, calling the living darkness of the void into him between the gaps in the chains as quickly as he could, which wasn't nearly as quickly as he would have liked. He was almost insensible when a familiar, hated voice cut through his subconscious and spoke words that had his fury solidifying into a sharp, destructive point.

It was not the Sky Court that had trapped him. They had no knowledge of what had happened; they had not consented to such an action. They were not so foolish, after all. No, it was only one of them that had done this; only one of them that had betrayed them all. Only one had been siphoning the other Light royals' energy; only one had been stealing it and feeding off of them without their knowledge. _Leech_, Cocidius screamed internally, _you filthy fucking leech!_ It was a grievous transgression, treachery of the worst kind, and was punishable by eternal banishment and the removal of crown and station. The words echoed and echoed through his head, and he couldn't stop them.

'_I have them, Cocidius, I have them and there is nothing thee can do to save them. No, it's much too late for that. I hold all the power of the Light Court, and it will be thy downfall. I will take the others soon, and nothing shall stand in my way. Their deaths weaken thee, while I, who thee always thought weak, will rule all. Irony at its best, if I do say so myself._'

Dagda would pay for this.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Well. Please don't kill me. And please review!


	26. Crystalline Tears

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to reviewers for the last chap: tkmoore**, tissues in hand? good, and again, remember that you love me. (grins hopefully)** Catalina Royce**, love you! love your reviews! (hyper-salivates at the thought of another)** Cloaked**, darling! lovely review as always! (bows)** madcow**, didn't mean to make you cry! oh, wait, yes I did! (runs and hides before you can throw something) :)** Wicked Not Evil**, thanksthanksthanksthanks!!!!** Jan,** angered you, did I? (blushes) sorry!** el chikita joules**, thank you!! **EvaYasha**, deep breaths…take deep breaths…:) **SkotosEnigma**, I'm glad you liked it even though it was fucked up! **short**** arse**, I am quite evil, huh? lol **Fallen**, (sighs) continuing. your puppy eyes overpowered me. :) **angelfire33**, please attempt to read the whole chapter _before_ flipping out, k? love ya! **sillysun**, thanks for having faith in me! love ya! **bigreader**, it can be a word if you want it to be, lol. and thanks!! **AineSironaTsuki**, thanks! **Haunted-Shadows**, umm, is speechlessness a good thing or a bad thing? :) **quimbytimmons**, not quite so violent, no. :) **Lithui**, updating, updating! lol **sexyjunkie**, thank you SO much! **zhizhi192**, what is 'ns'? just curious, and thanks for reviewing! **VirginVixen-666**, well, that was an interesting ultimatum! lol **Tom4ever**, thanks! **chrissyangel**, thank you! **Meryl12**, no, it's not prewritten. I'm obsessed. **Iced Faerie,** (cackles) I like being evil! **kiA**, check out the beginning of ch.8, and there's a short explanation there. let me know if it's not enough! **me**, no need to beg, thanks for reviewing! **aoi-yuki-yume**, oooh, voldie better watch out for you! :) **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, updating, as requested! **candace1989**, thank you!!!! **Ludra**, thank you so much! **musiclover86**, noooooo, thank YOU! **otaku**** sae**, you'll have to wait and see! :) **Tytianne**, as usual, thanks a million! **Psi**, here's more! lol **gin rose raposo1**, THANKS! **mz.sammiz**, more, as demanded, lol. **babykelyse**, thank you!!!!

**…………………………………………………………………………………………………**

Lycelle collapsed onto the nearest relatively soft thing that she could make out through her exhaustion, not really caring what it was as long as she was off of her feet. Her entire body was sore; she felt like she'd been running a three-day marathon, which wasn't too bad of a comparison seeing as how she hadn't slept in over seventy-two hours. Not to mention the complete fucking wreckage her emotions had been left in by all that had transpired. A strand of her hair came loose from its restraining bun, tickling her nose, but she didn't have the energy or the willpower to lift a hand and brush it back. It's not like it really mattered.

Even the thought of worrying over something so small and insignificant seemed impossible when there was so much more too be concerned over. Hell, to be _panicking_ over. Which most everyone was doing, though most had finally succumbed to their weariness hours before. Three days. It had been three days since the disastrous mission at Nor Gorgun, three days since everything had changed in ways much more horrible than they could have imagined. As the images bloomed inside her skull for the thousandth time, she knew that she would be unable to find any rest yet again, even though her body and mind screamed for it.

Severus had brought down the out-of-control circles after his seventh frenzied attempt, and Lycelle had been the first to make it to Virginia and Padma's side. She hadn't so much as started reaching out her hand for Virginia's shoulder when the girl had lashed out with sharp claws and nearly killed her. The lethal blow had been aimed at her heart, and only Padma's quick reflexes had saved her. No one had gone near the two girls after that, leaving them where they were. Padma had still been shaking with racking sobs, but Virginia had done nothing. After her initial raging and her attack on Lycelle, she had gone still and lifeless, her eyes glazed and unseeing.

Half an hour had passed before the entrance to the dungeons had opened, and those who'd gone to Nor Gorgun had stumbled in, their faces white and drawn with shock and sorrow. Fred and George had been the first inside, Anton and Pansy in their arms, and they wore looks of guilt and disbelief, as did those who followed them. She had been surprised to see Vincent carrying Bellatrix Black, and Gregory had been beside him with Daphne, who'd been wrapped from head to foot in a long, black cloak, much like her sister. Mira, Marcello, Millicent and Sebastian had trailed them, walking with their shoulders hunched and their eyes lowered in defeat.

She had leapt to her feet, Hermione wisely staying behind on the divan, and had gone to her sister, while trying not to think of the tears rising in her throat when she had seen that Draco and Blaise really weren't with them. The other Slytherins who'd been in the common room had been told to go back to their rooms, since Severus had needed to start looking at the girls' injuries and had no intention of them standing around and gawking. Ignoring the questions of where Draco and Blaise were just like he'd avoided the ones about what was wrong with Virginia and Padma, he'd shooed them out while the twins, Crabbe, and Goyle had laid their charges down gently.

That was when Virginia had snapped briefly back into reality.

"F-Fred? Geo-George?" She'd called, surprising everyone. They'd gone to her immediately, but she'd stood before they could kneel beside her. "Where are they?"

"Virginia—"

"_Where are they!?_" She'd demanded, and they had looked away. Her face falling, she'd taken a deep breath before running dead eyes over those who had returned. "You all made it?" She'd asked, her voice oh-so-soft.

"Yes."

"But they didn't." It hadn't really been a question, and Lycelle had seen the twins' hands shaking when they'd replied anyway.

"No." Their voices had been rough and strained, and she'd noticed with a start that they had faded a bit, just like Padma, but nowhere near as drastically as Virginia had.

"It all happened so quickly…" She'd started, and the first hysterical giggle had escaped her lips. "Did any of you even try to stop them? Save them?"

"We…" The twins had stopped, their expressions absolutely wretched, before Padma had reached out and taken their hands, and they'd continued, their voices still wavering. "There was no time. We didn't even know what was happening."

"No time." Virginia had repeated, giggling again and slowly pulling a handful of her hair out. "No time, no time, no time…" Her brothers' looks had sharpened then, and Lycelle knew that they had seen the same spark of growing insanity inside her eyes as she had. Paling rapidly, they'd reached for her again, but she'd recoiled.

"Rose, pleas—"

"No! Don't touch me. No one must touch me." She'd exclaimed, backing away, her hands twisting in her robes and clenching into fists. "My fault…all my fault…"

"None of this is your fault." Padma had intoned gently, but Virginia had shaken her head, her breathing becoming erratic.

"Yes, yes, it is. If he didn't need me, none of this would have happened. And now…" In a split second, her entire demeanor had changed, becoming wild and crazed. "_They promised!_ They promised they would come back to me! They said they would never leave me alone, they swore they would never do this…" Falling to her knees, the pendant they'd given her for Yule had appeared out of her skin, laying still and glittering on her graying flesh. Then she'd wrapped one hand around it before snapping off a third of the moon's crescent.

"Virginia, what are you—"

"_I want them back!_" She'd yelled frantically, the piece of the Isisian Charm in her fist cutting into her skin even as the rest had disappeared once more. Turning and throwing the shard on the floor hard, she'd made her first wish as she'd watched it shatter. "Do not take them from me! Do not let that miscreant god steal my heart and soul from me! Bring them back to me! Please…please…_bring them back to me_…" Her voice had become disjointed and low towards the end, before she'd sunken to the ground gracelessly, her head in her hands as her whole body had started shaking violently.

She did not speak a word for hours after that, and no one had known how to help her, not even Padma and the twins. _And they hadn't been much better off anyway_, Lycelle thought caustically. _No one had been_. Virginia had gone blank and silent again, and the twins and Padma had done their best to push past their own grief in order to heal Pansy and Daphne as best they could, which had been a lot, even though it had drained them more than they already were. Severus had been, to say the least, highly surprised to find Bella with them, and the look on his face would have been comical had the air not been so thick with tragedy.

Lycelle had been quite sick when she'd seen and heard the extent of her sister and Daphne's wounds, and her head had been throbbing horribly ever since. The tale of Anton's unleashing had been told in hushed whispers while they'd been getting supplies ready, and Lycelle had blanched, even as the others had taken on looks of awe and even deeper respect. Just another of the numerous ways in which she was bloody _different_. Forgive her if she thought that destroying a room full of people with a single burst of wandless magick wasn't just a _bit_ freaky. The rest of the story had been spoken in parts by all of them, and Lycelle hadn't liked a word of it.

Her sister, Daphne, Anton and Bella had all been moved into Severus's room before the sun had risen, and no one was really expected to go to classes that day. But a few had been going to breakfast, and Lycelle had hesitantly made her way to Virginia's side and asked if she wanted to go, just for a little while. To her surprise, Virginia had risen to join her. It wasn't until she'd seen the automaton-type movements and dull eyes that she'd realized the girl wasn't even really aware of, well, _anything_. Nervous after her earlier attack, Lycelle had led her to the Great Hall, Sebastian and Marcello shadowing them mournfully but watchfully.

It had all gone all right at first, none of the rest of the school had known what had happened, and although they'd given Virginia weird looks, no one had said anything. It hadn't been until she'd overheard two first year Slytherins at the end of the table talking in hushed whispers that she'd snapped. Lycelle hadn't been able to hear what they'd said, but she'd definitely heard Virginia's acidic, yet somehow pleading, words as she'd stood abruptly. '_They_ _are NOT dead!_' She'd hissed, her claws sinking into thick wood a second before she'd sent the entire Slytherin table flying. It had flipped straight up and over their heads, before slamming into the wall behind them and breaking in half with a deafening 'BOOM'.

Food and (mostly spiked) juice had flown everywhere, dozens of students had started screaming, and she'd stalked out of the Hall without a backwards glance. Lycelle and the others had gone after her, only to find her by Pansy's bedside, channeling raw, healing energy into her. She'd been zombie-like again, and stayed that way for an entire day. A day during which they had all avoided the other Slytherins' questions, but couldn't ignore Dumbledore's any longer. So the story had been unwillingly repeated, quite a few parts left out, and Lycelle was pretty sure that had been the first time that she'd ever seen the Headmaster look stunned.

They hadn't been five minutes done with the recollection when Narcissa and Silana had burst through the floo, dirty and covered in scrapes and bruises, and they'd nearly given them all heart attacks. They'd each been clutching an amulet tightly, and Lycelle had been reminded of the last time they'd come in looking so frightened and angry, except they hadn't been in such a state of disrepair. They'd mumbled something about South America, a cave in, and malfunctioning International Apparation points, before they'd demanded to see their sons. And so the story had been told yet again, and it had been horrific to see the proud women lose all control and sob openly.

Narcissa had been taken to Bella's side after a while, and she had not moved since except once, her hand wrapped around her sister's in a death grip. The only thing that she had requested was for Sirius to come, and Severus, for once, hadn't argued or even made a snide comment. Mira had stayed with Silana, and Armynel and Sirius had arrived at the same time. No one had really spoken, only the smallest flickerings of hope in their hearts. Isisian Charms were never supposed to fail; they all knew that. But did that count when your adversary was a god? And which god had it been that had been able to trap Cocidius and take Draco and Blaise?

So many questions, and no answers. Anton had healed the fastest, and he stayed at Pansy's side constantly, curled up beside her with his arms placed around her carefully, so as not to cause her mangled body more pain. Virginia's magick had helped, but the girl wasn't up to her usual levels. Every hour that passed without her lovers coming through the entrance weakened her a little bit more. Not a single word had escaped her lips nor a single emotion crossed her face as she'd moved mechanically from Pansy to Daphne to Bella and back again, trading out with Padma and the twins. And then, a day and a half since Draco and Blaise had been taken, it had happened.

Later, Lycelle had found out that the crate had been allowed into the castle since wealthier students routinely had furniture and such shipped from back home or from some store or another, and it had passed all of the security checks. Had the professor who had done the checking known what was inside, it never would have made it to the dungeons. But they hadn't, they'd only known that it wasn't dangerous and had sent it on down. Gregory had been the one to answer the knocking from outside, and he'd let them carry in the crate with a puzzled expression. Most of the House had been in the common room at the time, and Severus had been the one to open it.

Vincent actually fainting should have been her first clue, but she hadn't known anything was seriously wrong until Severus had turned green and demanded that everyone get back. They hadn't listened, of course, and Mira had been the next to get a look inside. She'd screamed immediately, a small hand slamming over her mouth seconds later as she'd stumbled backwards as if she'd been struck. Lycelle had jumped up, curiosity overcoming her, and wished that she'd known then what she would see. She would have stayed in her seat, to say the least. Someone had yelled for somebody to restrain Virginia, who'd become animate again at Mira's scream.

On leaden feet, Lycelle had reached the crate, her dread growing with every step. Closing her eyes once she'd reached it, she'd taken several deep breaths before forcing herself to look, and she had instantly regretted it. Draco and Blaise had laid side by side, their hair tangled and matted with dark blood and their bodies covered in it. Burns had wrapped around them from head to foot, their robes melted into the open wounds, and their open eyes had told it all. '_Dead_', those sightless eyes had screamed, '_dead!_' Fighting a wave of nausea, she'd shuffled back and nearly fallen over in her attempt to get away. Then an animalistic shriek had cut through her haze.

Virginia had fought her way to the crate, had seen what it held, and the last of her sanity had fled with her hope. Lycelle had thought the girl had sounded destroyed the first time in the circles, but she'd been wrong. The sheer soul-pain in that heart-wrenching cry had held more agony than someone could possibly survive. It was dark and fierce and desperate, and Lycelle's tears had been ripped from her in a torrent as she'd watched Virginia come completely undone. Scream after tormented scream had poured from her as she'd crumpled to the ground like a rapidly withering flower that knew there would not be another spring.

She'd scared the fuck out of them all then, as one of the swords she'd used that day on the Quidditch pitch had appeared in her hand, and had George not been right next to her, her blow would have struck true and pierced her heart. Instead, it had been knocked to the side not a second too soon and impaled her shoulder. She had not even seemed to notice the pain, had just yanked it back out and spun towards her brother. Fred had come up behind her and snatched the blade a moment later, and she had seemed to switch plans, placing her hands on her chest as she'd begun turning her magic against herself.

Pandemonium had ensued for a good minute before Padma and Severus had finally got everyone to shut up, and Padma had called in that odd, disquieting book that they'd used to make the circles. Laying the book on her lap, she'd put her hands over it and closed her eyes. The pages had started fluttering, slowly and then faster and faster, before falling still. Her eyes had scanned the page quickly, and her face had become grave. Moving to Virginia's side, she'd managed to pry one of the other girl's hands from her chest, but was unable to dislodge the other. Nodding briskly, a new purpose shining in her dark eyes, she'd stood and told them what had been needed.

"She's killing herself." She'd stated, confirming what they'd suspected. "But we can stop it."

"How?" The twins had asked, their expressions completely miserable.

"There's a spell we can do." She'd explained. "It will bind her and stop the flow, but…"

"But what?" They'd asked, their faces becoming grim at her downtrodden look.

"We need virgin blood again." She'd finally replied, and Sebastian had sneered.

"Then we'll go get some more." He'd said, his tone making it clear that he would do whatever was necessary to get said blood. But Padma had shaken her head.

"It's not just that." She'd told them, her eyes running over her dying friend. "It's going to require the blood of two virgins, nearly all of it, and a piece of their spirit as well." Silence had reigned after those words, interrupted only by Narcissa and Silana's quiet crying as they'd rocked their sons in their arms, sitting inside the crate that they'd forced their way to.

"I take it they have to do it willingly?" George had asked, and Lycelle hadn't liked the look in his eyes at all.

"Yes." Padma had responded, meeting those disturbing eyes with an ease that Lycelle knew she would never possess. "I will be one of them, but we still need another." George and Fred had exchanged looks before leaning over and brushing their sister's limp hair from her face, which had been starting to sweat as her body heat had risen.

"We failed them, sister. Them and you." They'd whispered, and the pain in their voices had caused even more tears to stream down Lycelle's face. "But we will not fail in this." Rising, they had looked at the Slytherins around them before smirking, and she'd liked that even less than the looks in their eyes. "Isn't your House owed a debt?" They'd asked, and Melody, who'd only been away from Daphne's side to get more salve but had frozen when she'd seen her friends, had been the one to answer them.

"Yes. By that girl who turned on your sister."

"Lauren." The twins had said, the name rolling from their lips like a curse.

"Come on." Sebastian had intoned viciously, Marcello at his side. "Let's go get that little bitch. It's time for her to learn just how unpleasant the prices for our favors are."

The four of them had been gone less than twenty minutes, but it had felt like an eternity, especially as they'd watched Virginia's condition worsen by the second. Melody had disappeared back into Severus's rooms, and Anton had come out for the first time a few seconds later, his eyes frantic. She'd apparently told him what had happened, and he'd gone straight to the crate. When he'd seen Narcissa and Silana, when he'd seen his best friends, Lycelle had been able to do nothing as she'd watched a part of him die. Moving as if in a dream, he'd gone to their side with none of his usual grace, his movements short and stilted.

He'd done nothing for several long moments, before the first, glassy tears had streaked down his face from hazel eyes that still held specks of black. Then, without the slightest bit of repulsion, he'd leaned down and brushed his lips over their charred ones before pulling back and bolting from the room without so much as a word. The rest of the House hadn't said anything either, most too stunned to speak and others simply refusing to, before the entrance had opened again and the twins, Sebastian and Marcello had drug a struggling Lauren inside. If she hadn't been needed, the first words out of her mouth would have gotten her killed by a Slytherin mob.

"I don't care! I'm not helping that fucking whore and I don't give a shit what kind of trouble she's gotten herself into! I—" She'd been cut off when Mira had appeared like a furious whirlwind, snatching the girl from the others and slamming her into a wall. A clawed hand had stayed wrapped around her throat, her feet dangling off of the ground, and Mira's eyes had been burning veela red.

"You will do as you're bid, little witch, or I will spill your innards all over the floor and play in them." She'd hissed, and fear had settled heavily in Lauren's gaze. "You are bound by your oath, and we are ready to collect on it. I can assure you that a refusal will result in a most slow and nasty death."

"Umag ugg." Lauren had choked out, her face turning purple with lack of oxygen. Mira had smiled, a scary, unsettling smile, before tossing the girl at Padma's feet.

The spell had worked, and Lauren hadn't said anything once her eyes had landed on Virginia. Lycelle swore that she had seen regret and sadness there, but she didn't really care if she had or not. The girl was a fucking cunt, and no amount of remorse would change that. When Virginia had come back to awareness and realized what had been done, she'd completely freaked out. The common room had been mostly destroyed, and everyone had run for cover but for the twins, Padma, Narcissa and Silana. She hadn't used magic, as she couldn't because of the binding, but she hadn't needed it to vent her rage and heartbreak.

But then, after she had spent what little was left of her strength, she'd started raving, talking to shadows and chairs and herself, and they'd been helpless to stop her mental erosion. But they'd had to do something when she'd attacked anyone who came back inside the common room. No one had been able to really blame her though, seeing as how the nameless voices had taken on names after a while, and she'd rambled nonsense to her dead boyfriends as if they were right beside her, alive and whole. With tears in their eyes, Padma and the twins had overpowered her and locked her in her room, shielding it for hours to ensure that she couldn't escape.

That weird book had been brought out again in order to do it, and the twins had lost their drive afterwards, sinking to the floor on either side of the vampire portrait and burying their faces in their arms. Lycelle had dared to hope, then, that the worst had passed. She'd been wrong. Sitting beside her sister's bed a day later, she'd been surprised when Pansy's hand had tightened around her own. Anton had been out, finally forced to take a sleeping draught, but Pansy's eyes had been open and latched onto her. A smile had bloomed across her face, as her sister had woken a few times in the last couple days but never when she was there.

"Hey there." She'd said softly, running her thumb lightly along Pansy's scarred hand. Her sister's eyes flicked to Anton as if to reassure herself that he hadn't disappeared, before returning to Lycelle. She'd removed her hand from her sister's and placed it on her thigh before tracing out words that had Lycelle shrinking back.

'_Where are Draco and Blaise? No one will tell me._'

Her brain stalling, Lycelle had desperately wondered what she was supposed to say to that. It would be folly to tell the truth, and she had no idea what kind of lie to fabricate. But her silence and terrified eyes had been enough of a response for Pansy, and Lycelle cursed herself for not having a typical Slytherin's emotional control, cursed herself for not always having a mask ready to slide into place. Her sister had started struggling to rise, looking absolutely horrified, and it had shaken Anton from his slumber. He'd put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her gently back down, but she wouldn't have any of it.

"What did you say to her?" Anton had asked, the slightest hint of accusation in his voice as his haunted eyes had met hers.

"N-Nothing." Lycelle had stammered, trying to help him get Pansy calm.

But her sister's finger had flown over Anton's flesh, and he'd stopped abruptly, staring at nothing. That had been too much, and Pansy had screamed before vaulting out of the bed with much more speed than someone as hurt as she was should have been able to manage. Draco and Blaise had, thankfully, been moved from the common room, and Pansy's next question when they'd caught her had been about Virginia. Against everyone's wishes, she'd demanded to see the girl, and had only been given the okay after promising not to move again afterwards until she was healed. Padma had gone in with her, and they'd stayed inside for almost an hour.

Neither had been the same when they had emerged, and their grief was tangible, thick and throbbing in the air around them. Pansy had blamed herself, and had looked as if she hadn't really been able to believe that two of her best friends were gone, the other mad. It had taken hours to get Pansy back to sleep, and only now did Lycelle take the time herself to try and rest. Gods, even her _hair_ hurt. She heard someone coming up behind her, and didn't object when Marcello started kneading the aching muscles in her neck and shoulders. It wasn't until he leaned over, one darkly tanned finger brushing a sparkling tear from her cheek, that she realized she was crying again.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Umethi flew silently through the Forbidden Forest, every sense on guard and waiting for danger. He and his kindred had been ordered to stay behind and watch over their masters' flame-haired princess, and they continued to do so even as their grief ate at their insides. They knew they would fade from it sooner or later, as the masters had left behind no heirs, and they each believed they deserved that final death. They should not have listened to them that last time, they should have fought harder against their binds. And they would have had they known that a god had turned traitor. They could feel the ripples of the betrayal running through the ether.

Umethi sighed for the first time in centuries. How had it come to this? How had their masters' fates been shortened and stalled so cruelly? He did not know, and he had the strangest desire to go…somewhere. He could not tell where, though, and it worried him as few things did. He was making his fifth circle over the forest when the vision took him and he fell from the sky. He distinctly felt the barest touch of the Lady, farther away then he'd ever known Her to go, before he was standing in a hallway, watching as his masters shoved their friends through the portal that they had spent hours creating to get them out of Nor Gorgun.

He could do nothing but watch and seethe as the divine form of Dagda swept towards them. It was a god he would know anywhere, in any shape or form. He watched as his masters faced their deaths, watched as they were taken, and then he was swirling through darkness again until it evened out and he saw…_the ocean_. That was where he wanted to go so badly. He knew why when the scene unfolded before him. He was standing by the waves where they hit the shore, and a low stone labyrinth stretched out in front of him. He recognized it, and seconds later, Dagda appeared with his masters in hand, His glowing face lit with triumph.

The twisted god threw their bodies down carelessly, and Umethi started when he saw that they were still breathing. So He hadn't killed them immediately then. They were burned horribly from the trip in Dagda's hands, but they were alive. When Dagda made to finish them off, though, he realized that they wouldn't be for long. But then…Dagda couldn't do it. Oh, He tried, but shields like moonlight deflected all of his killing shots of power, and Umethi felt the telltale glimmer in the magick. Hope soared within him for the first time in days. _The Isisian Charm_, he thought wildly, his heart beating rapidly for the first time in…in a very long time.

Dagda roared, and two hooded figures raced out of the labyrinth, debasing themselves before the god instantly until they were told to rise. Dagda gave them instructions after a space of thoughtful silence, and Umethi's rage grew as he watched the lackeys pluck a handful of hair from each of his masters' heads. Dagda started laughing, and a low table appeared on the sand, two writhing wizards strapped to it like offerings. Which they probably were. They died quickly, not even having time to really scream, and a wave of Dagda's hand had two cauldrons coming into view on the table. The hairs were placed inside them, and the potions forced down dead throats.

"Have these delivered." The god told His followers, and they nodded as the bodies on the table morphed into exact replicas of Umethi's masters. "Unlike Polyjuice, this will not wear off. Take them to the girl. I'll take care of these two."

The men unchained the bodies, and off they went with them back into the labyrinth. Dagda turned considering eyes on the two Elementals at His feet, before His hand waved again and twin davascian coffins appeared next to them. He didn't even bother opening them, just sent their bodies straight through the coffin's lids. Heavy chains of davasca began wrapping around them, and Umethi was sure that more of the same was constraining his masters inside. Dagda pulled back and admired His work for a few seconds, before He threw glowing shields around it all.

Then He was shooting into the air with both coffins in hand, and Umethi followed, flight coming as easy in the vision as it did in reality. They sped out over the waves, clouds parting before Dagda as courtiers would, and Umethi wished that Dagda had not been so careful. If the air had been able to sense Blaise, it would have turned against the foul god. But davasca severed all ties when it was made into such a complete prison, and the wind knew not that its beloved was being stolen. Finally, Dagda began to slow, and He shot back down and towards the blue water, which sparkled like a million crystalline tears in the moonlight.

He did not stop above the waves but sliced past them, and Umethi stayed right on His heels as they dove and dove. He did not pay attention to the animal life around him, but he did pay attention to the ocean's permanent landmarks, cataloguing them inside his mind. But still they dove, until all light had been extinguished except for the occasional luminescent sea creature. After another stretch of endless descent, the ocean floor finally stopped its steep sloping and leveled out, and Dagda chained the coffins to a huge metal rod that had certainly not grown there naturally.

As the silt settled around them again, he could see rusty scraps of other chains attached to it, and wondered how many times Dagda had used this place. Then everything flipped and spun, and he was falling through the thick branches of the trees outside Hogwarts, seconds from hitting the ground. Pulling back at the last second and shooting back up, he ignored the calls of his kindred and sped for the castle, calling in the items he thought he would need. He knew what had to be done. They could not go after their masters themselves, the binds still held too strong, but he knew one who could. They would stay and watch over the princess. They could see beneath the skin; they knew her worth.

But the other…It was time for the other to break down destiny's door and see if she could change the dreary future for them all.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Padma had never been so tired in her life. She didn't even know you could _be_ as worn out as she was. She knew that she needed some rest desperately, but her thoughts were still in turmoil, and she couldn't stop, couldn't relax. She felt a tug on her mind but ignored it, forcing Anton into taking a restorative potion and threatening to simply knock him unconscious and give it to him herself if he didn't. He needed replenishment as much as anyone considering how much his unleashing had weakened him, and the fact that he hadn't eaten anything in three days. He finally relented and swallowed it before sinking back down beside Pansy once more.

Moving on to Melody, she gave the same threat and watched as the girl downed another vial of the potion. Taking it back from her, she went to put it up and fought off the blackness that was creeping into her vision and trying to overwhelm her. She felt the weird tug again, but pushed it away and started bottling more of the potions. Her hands were aching, practically begging for her to stop, but she didn't. Couldn't. Daphne made a strangled noise, and Padma stumbled over to her, ignoring Anton's accusing look. He knew how tired she was, and had been on her case for hours to sleep, calling her everything from stubborn to a hypocrite.

Daphne's body was healing nicely, the lesser scars already beginning to fade, but her mind was another matter altogether. She still hadn't slipped out of the strange trance that she was in, and the only people who'd been able to touch her without her flinching away and whimpering were Padma, Virginia and Melody. But Virginia was in no condition to help anyone now, and Melody wasn't a healer. That left Padma, and she was determined to help the girl as much as she could. Soothing her with a calming touch and gentle hands, Padma waited until she was sleeping peacefully again before sitting back. That tug pulled again, and in her weariness, she followed it.

'_Earth-child! You must come!_' A voice like music sounded inside her head, and she gasped, a hand going to her temple.

'_Who are you?_' She asked, worried that she was traipsing after Virginia into lunacy.

_'Umethi. Now come!_' The voice replied, and she wondered what one of the Ezutîël could possibly want with her.

Knowing that he wouldn't have summoned her for nothing, she made her way out of Slytherin mostly unnoticed since everyone was sleeping; even the twins were after she'd made them take sleeping draughts. She stuck to the shadows as she made her way to the nearest exit, and no one noted her passage. Sliding through a door on the first floor, the cold air hit her face and she cursed the fact that she had forgotten her cloak. And now there was no Draco to call on and…Choking back yet another sob, she morosely thought that there had probably been more tears spilled in Slytherin the last few days then ever before.

'_Over here, young one._' That voice called again, the tug leading her west and towards the boat dock.

She almost lost her balance several times as she navigated the slippery stone steps that led down to it, and it made her finally acknowledge just how sapped of strength she was. She opened the door slowly when she finally got there, and smelt the different polishes and fish remains that Hagrid had left lying about. Three boats were docked inside, but she couldn't see or smell anything else. Then one of the shadows melted away from the wall, and the guard approached her as the door shut with a soft 'click' that echoed through the stone room. Had she not known better, she probably would have thought he was a Dementor even without the snaking cold.

"Umethi." She said by way of greeting, inclining her head respectfully. He did the same, his hood obscuring his face, as always. "Where are your kindred?"

"Around, my lady." He replied with a voice like a silk covered dagger. "Would you do anything to bring them back?" He asked, getting right to the point. He didn't need to say who he meant.

"Of course." She responded automatically, before his question sunk in. "Wait, what are you talking about? We already got them back, thanks to that bloody charm."

"No, you didn't." He said simply, and she felt as if she'd just been thrown into a pool of ice water, every sense becoming sharp and focused for the first time in over a day and a half.

"_What? _Of course we did, they're—"

"Those are not their bodies."

Can your entire world be rebuilt in an instant? She knew that it could break that quickly, but could five small words really cause the surge of strength and hope within her that she felt spiraling out from her core? Could they really cause her head to feel light and her fingers to tingle? Could they make her see a different path than the one that she'd been sure she would be walking only moments ago? Could they? She thought so, since she could find no other explanation for those things. Looking into that shadowed hood and wishing she could see his face, she did know one thing for sure. She was going to kill him if he was lying to her.

"They're not dead?" She asked in a tiny whisper that no mortal ear could have heard, and she received a single nod accompanied by a shrug.

"No. I don't believe they are. Not yet, anyway. But they don't have long."

"How do you know this?" She questioned breathlessly, the thought of her friends alive making her feel as if she were floating.

"A vision from the Lady."

"But She is unreachable!" Padma protested, as her link to the Lady had stretched into nearly nothing when She had submerged herself days ago. Padma had tried to reach Her countless times and failed.

"Yes." Umethi agreed with another nod. "I can only assume that She had a vision of Her own and sent mine to me."

"Where are they? How can I help them? How much time do they have?" The inquiries poured from her in a rush, and she felt as if a clock somewhere had just started ticking, making her nervous and edgy, ready to _do_ something.

"Here." He said, a bundle appearing in his hands. He unwrapped the thick, black velvet and told her what each of the items inside were for. "This," he explained, holding up a green glass vial, "will give you your energy back for exactly one hour. Do not take it until it is necessary. This," that time a dagger was held up, made of a metal she'd never seen before, "was forged by Hephaestus Himself, and will cut through davasca as even the masters' blades cannot. It is the only weapon made by His hands that has not been destroyed. And this," the last object was held up, a gray stone the size of her palm, "will portkey you back here once you get out of the wards."

"What wards? Where am I going?" She asked, taking the vial, the dagger and the stone from him.

He explained more about his vision, told her of the beach and the sunken coffins, as he walked her to the property's boundaries. The velvet bundle had turned out to be a cloak the twin of his, and they'd had to shorten the hem almost a foot for her to be able to walk in it without tripping. Padma had never felt such fury as she did while listening to him speak. He told her the truth of the god that had taken them, and she had been shocked to her core when Dagda's name had spilled from his lips. The All-Father had turned rotten? The Good God, the leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann, had taken Voldemort's side in the war? Impossible. But yet it _was_, and it changed everything.

"Here." Umethi said once they'd reached the end of the castle's wards, and he started to unsheathe one of his swords.

"No." She said, and he paused. "That's not necessary. Cocidius gifted me with my own at my Marking." The guard tilted his head in what she assumed was a thoughtful fashion.

"So all four sets are in this Realm once more." He commented, and as it wasn't a question, she said nothing. "Interesting. Well, are you ready?"

"Yes." She said, stepping outside the wards.

He reached through them, holding out another flat stone. She touched it and felt the invisible hook sink into her stomach, yanking her forward. Seconds passed, feeling like an age, before she was deposited on grainy, wispy grass, salty air settling on her tongue and in her throat. Looking up and reorienting herself, she could just make out the labyrinth Umethi had spoken of. Making sure she still had everything that she needed, she started out on what ended up being a two-hour hike though rocky, pit-ridden terrain that had her cursing and nearly in tears again by the time it was over. Her body hurt so badly, and she couldn't think properly at all.

Feeling the wards ahead of her, she stopped and activated her amulet, which Umethi had told her would lead her through them. Power filled her, but with her body already so depleted, it just made the pain lessen a bit and prevented the wards from slicing her into tiny pieces. Having no time to mess around, the few sentinels that she came across died quietly on the end of her sword. She had enough strength for _that_, at least. Finally winding her way through that damned maze of passageways, she fell to her knees when she reached the beach, unable to do more than breathe for several long minutes. She was almost positive that this was what dying felt like.

The thought of death had her reaching, ever so slowly, for the vial in her pocket. She mustn't give into exhaustion now, not when she was so close. Praying that the elixir would work as promised, she fought with the cork for what felt like an hour before she swallowed it all in two gulps. Nothing happened. Cursing that bastard guard in every language that she could think of, she nearly came out of her skin when she felt her reserves fill back up with rich, untapped strength a minute later. It flooded every pore and brought her to her feet, making her feel better than she had in days. The clock still ticking in her ears, she ran for the shore, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be too late.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione felt like a train had run her over, then backed up and did it again. She didn't think she had any tears left, and her limbs were in agony from staying in the same position for over three days. When everyone had come back from Nor Gorgun the other night, Hermione had curled into a ball at the end of the divan she was on, making herself as small as possible. No one had noticed her. Appalled when she'd heard that Draco and Blaise had not made it back, she'd left the divan and went to the far corner alcove, scrunching down and rocking back and forth, denial coursing through her. They couldn't have been lost. They couldn't have been.

She had learned what had happened from bits and pieces of their conversations, and had seen all that had transpired from her hiding place. Thinking her pain couldn't become any worse, she'd been proven wrong when the two Slytherins' bodies had been brought to the dungeons in a crate. She remembered nothing for a long time after that. When she'd finally come back to reality, Lauren had been laying half-dead on the floor beside Padma, and Virginia had been destroying everything in sight. Hermione had been spared the brunt of it, but she'd still been stabbed in the leg with a long splinter from a broken sofa.

She'd only left her spot to sneak a glass of water and to use the bathroom, and now, starving and thirsty and miserable, she knew that she had to move. Her throat was killing her, and her stomach felt as if it were eating itself. But she felt no real desire to get up, or, more likely, crawl. She could see no real reason for it. Knowing that those silver eyes would never light up again had squashed something within her brutally. Scores of things that she hadn't let herself admit had come to the forefront, no longer ignorable, and she felt as if her heart was being sucked out of her chest. Suddenly, she had the strongest urge to get out, and she looked around, seeing everyone asleep.

Had the Slytherins been slumbering normally, they would have awoken as soon as she started her slow drag across the floor, but they were not slumbering normally. Every throat had had a sleeping draught poured down it, and she made it to the exit when she realized that she didn't know how to get out. Cursing, she nearly had a stroke when a hand landed on her shoulder. Looking up into the bone-tired face of her only friend, she watched numbly as Lycelle opened the wall for her without a word in her direction. The girl nodded before going back to her chair and falling into it bonelessly, and Hermione was gone a few moments later.

Not really knowing where she was going, she used the wall to keep herself upright. She twisted through what had to have been a least a million corridors, and it came as quite a surprise when she felt freezing air brush her face and hands, blowing her hair back and littering it with snow. Tears springing to her eyes again, she marveled at the fact that there was even enough moisture left in her for them. Her feet led her towards the gardens, and she was shivering and blue by the time she reached them. Going to the back section, she sat on one of the icy stone benches and wondered what in the hell she was doing out there.

'_Come to me._'

Oh lord. Oh sweet fucking lord. She was cracking up. Was that a _voice_ inside her head?

'_Come to me. I will give you the power to save them and have the one you desire._'

Laughing shrilly, she stood quickly and started to leave, thoroughly freaked out. _This is not happening_, she told herself, and nearly passed out when the voice answered her as if she'd spoken aloud.

'_Oh, but it is. Do you want to save them or not?_'

Deciding that she'd gone nutters, she figured '_why_ _the hell not?_' and answered back.

'_Save who?_'

'_Why, your love and his, of course._'

'_They're dead._' She replied, feeling like a fool as her heart began pounding.

'_Nearly. But you…you're strong enough to save them. I'm sure of it._'

'_Who are you?_'

'_A friend. I've known your silver prince for quite a while. I just wish to…help._'

'_I…_' She trailed off, something about all of this feeling wrong, but a second later, everything seemed quite surreal. And happy. '_Okay._' She found herself responding.

'_So you will come? Come to save the one that you love?_'

'_Yes._' She said, after thoughts of silver hair and mercury eyes assaulted her brain. '_Yes, I will come._'

'_Excellent._' The voice intoned, for the briefest moment sounding like a serpent. '_We_ _will do great things…good things, you and __I__ They will praise you for your actions, respect you like you wish for them to do. I will give all of that to you._'

'_What do I do?_' She asked, her thoughts a confused, enraptured jumble inside her head.

'_Look under the bench, take the quill._'

Dropping to her knees in the snow, Hermione wondered many things. Like why snow had to be so cold in the first place, and why such a pretty voice had picked _her_ of all people to talk to. She was nothing _too_ special after all, but the pretty voice was going to help her become special. It would help her become beautiful and desired, would help her become what she'd realized, in the last few weeks, that she wished to be. _Slytherin_. The word whipped through her, bringing a smile to her lips as she spotted the worn-out quill. She reached for it reverently, knowing in a muddled way that it held the answer to all of her dreams, and her last thought as her fingers closed around it was base, drug up from the bottom of her soul.

'_Draco Malfoy will be mine._'

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"_I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, diddily dee—_"

'SMASH'!

"_There they were all standing in a row, ho, ho, ho—_"

'SMASH'!

"_Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head—_"

'SMASH'!

That game was getting boring, Virginia concluded, and let the next vase fall to the floor. She couldn't remember any more Disney songs anyway. Walt Disney had been her absolute favorite wizard when she'd been growing up, and she'd watched all of his movie crystals religiously. Tinkling laughter sounded to her left, and she spun, the shadows moving with her. It was like a cat chasing its tail. She could hear them, catch the barest glimpses, but she couldn't quite see them before they slid behind her again. She supposed that it was comforting, in a way. Better than being alone. Better than throwing everything breakable that she could find.

It was aggravating though. She wanted to see them, not play more games. Stomping her foot angrily, she informed them if they didn't quit, she wouldn't talk to them anymore. More delighted laughter was her only answer, and she growled. _Stupid boys_, she thought ruefully, and plopped down on the bed. Music sounded behind her, a piano, but she refused to give them the pleasure of a smile, even though she loved when they played. She had heard them do a duet for the first time at the Manor, and had been thrilled. Bartolomeo Cristofori, the inventor of the instrument, had been a wizard, so they had deemed it worthy of learning to play.

Unable to suppress a giggle, she turned again to tell them that it was beautiful, only to have everything shift again. The music still coming from behind her, she gave up and fell back against the pillows. As soon as she closed her eyes, she heard one strand of the music die away as feather-light fingers brushed over her skin, icy cold. Shivering in pleasure, she kept her eyes closed, knowing that he would disappear again were she to open them. They trailed over her stomach and up between her breasts, traced the rune of devotion over her heart, before moving to her throat and then starting all over again. Then they were gone.

The second strand of the music started again as the first fell away into nothing, and she dared not so much as breathe until charged fingertips brushed over her lips. Stifling a moan, she wished it would never stop, that she never had to leave this nice place that she had built inside herself. She wasn't completely unaware of the fact that she had lost her mind. But it was distant, like a memory trapped in a clear glass globe just out of her reach, but not utterly out of her perception. Phantom lips met hers, and she wondered if she really was imaging them. Maybe not. Maybe their ghosts had come back to haunt her until she joined them.

Then those lips were gone as well, and the eerie, soothing notes were made by four separate hands instead of two once more. Gods, how she wished that she could join them. How she wished she could pick up the broken pieces of one of the vases and slice her wrists open to the bone. Damn Padma. Damn her a thousand times over for binding her! She couldn't reach her magic, and couldn't even harm herself with material things. Apparently, they'd all just rather her waste away slowly locked in this room that smelled so strongly of her lovers. Apparently, they wanted her death to be a drawn-out affair, dramatic enough to be positively tragic.

Sighing and twirling a long, faded lock of what had been blood-red hair around her finger, she wondered what they would all say if she cut it all off. Then she wondered if she might be able to hang herself with it. It was certainly long enough. Dismissing the idea, as she was sure that the binding would thwart that effort too, she let the hair fall from her fingers as she started to hum the theme to another Disney movie, laughing when she heard them start humming it with her, their fingers having stopped their rhythmic tapping of the keys. She spun again, trying to catch sight of them, and her laughter stopped at once when she _did_ move fast enough that time.

They were dead, dead, dead. Nothing more than ghastly skeletons clothed in their robes, crowned with their hair. Falling off the bed and landing in an ungainly crouch, she couldn't rip her eyes away as memories flooded back to her. Finding out she was Voldemort's Key, Pansy and Daphne being stolen from them, the rage, the death, the wait, the mission, the failure, the grief, the denial, the delivery, the death of her soul, the rage, the mourning…She screamed, scratching at her eyes, trying to make the flow of images stop their vehement assault. _Gone!_ Her mind shrieked. _Taken and stolen__ and GONE!_ _Gone, gone, gone…_

"_Stop!_"

And they did. The images finally ceased, and a strange calm infused her from head to foot, the first bit of lucidity that she'd felt in forever. Everything seemed to become stunningly clear. She could break free. Break free and end her pain and loneliness. But first, she had things to settle with the Dark Lord. She would probably die fighting him, but she'd be damned if she didn't take him with her. Standing on steady feet, she made her way purposefully to the room's vault. Stopping at the fire pit, she thanked the gods for small favors, since the self-cleaning spells had cleared away the ashes of the last fire, leaving the marble clean and spotless.

Whispered words in a tongue long lost to history had the stone disintegrating, a hole opening up in its place. A twisting stairway led down, and she took the steps three at a time, her mind racing and clouding with renewed fury. She reached the bottom soon enough, cloying music reaching her ears once again. She was glad that she could see in the dark, since she did not yet have her magic back, and therefore couldn't light the torches of summon a ball of witchlight. The hidden room was an arsenal. Stocked from floor to ceiling with magickal weapons, everything in it was deadly, from the more normal to the extreme.

A paralyzing dagger went in one boot, another that stole the victim's sight into the other, and she grabbed two identical ones that she recalled had a mean tendency to burrow into a body until they found and severed the spinal cord. They had adjustable wrist sheathes that she slid on without looking, as she didn't want to see the dead Mark on her arm. How many times had she screamed for Cocidius when they had first locked her away? The agony of separation from him was almost as difficult to breathe around as it was for her lovers. She felt like she was choking, but she pushed it back and grabbed a strand of small, explosive charms.

Her robe and pants hit the floor carelessly, she would need to change clothes anyway, and she buckled the charms on. They were in a black leather harness that strapped to her thigh, and were easily removable if you had trained fingers. Which she did. They had taken her through this room countless times, teaching her what each weapon did and how to use them, practicing with her until it was ingrained into her mind. Orbs that would release a thick layer of poisoned gas slid easily into a harness much like the other, and she strapped those to her other thigh, walking in an experimental circle to make sure that her movement wasn't impaired.

Ripping off her shirt, another harness slid on, that one almost like a corset, and it stretched from the bottoms of her breasts to her hips. Across the abdomen and back were horizontal, built-in sheathes, and slim throwing knives with essence of shadowleaf made into the blades slid home smoothly. There were twelve all together, six in the front and six in the back, and they seemed to pull at her, as if they had minds of their own and wished for the slaughter. Maybe they did. Two more harnesses were grabbed off of a shelf to her right, and they attached to the top of the wrist sheathes by a series of small clasps.

They were lined with the same tiny, poisoned darts her lovers had taken so many of the other night, and again, they slid out easily at a knowing touch. She considered taking one of the slender blowguns, but knew that it wasn't really necessary. She could throw them just fine. She couldn't call in her swords just yet, but she would soon enough, and she knew that there was only one more thing that she needed before she went back up, changed, and broke free of her bonds. She needed the one thing that she knew could kill the Dark Lord if she could get close enough to use it. Going to the far wall, she stood before the only bare spot in the room and spoke another password.

A hole opened up, revealing their most prized possessions that had come to the school with them. But she was not concerned with anything but the slender tube of crystal sitting on a pillow of silk. It was precious to them, and would heal them if they touched it, but to an enemy of theirs, it was the most deadly substance in any Realm. The Dark Lord did not have his full power, and to get it he needed her. Well, she would go to him as he wished for her to. But no matter the cost, he would not leave alive. He was still weak, still vulnerable. He could still be killed, and she…Well, she held the blood and tears of Cocidius in her hand. Looking up, she knew it was then or never.

They thought they could hold her? They were about to find out why her lovers called her their sun. Oh yes, it was time for Virginia Weasley to show her worth. She would have her pound of flesh.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Well, there you go! Another chappie! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

(Hephaestus – Greek God of the Forge and Fire)


	27. Vengeance

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, witness my redemption. lol! you are the review queen, as usual!** Cloaked**, as always, you are a goddess! **Angie**, thanks! **sillysun**, totally spectacular review. typical. LOL **me**, awesome review!! thanks!! **otaku**** sae**, thanks so much! hope you like this chappie, too! **Fallen**, hope you like this one! love ya! **el**** chikita joules**, THANK YOU! **Carmilla Zabini**, thanks for the review, dear! love ya! **VirginVixen-666**, you should like this one, lol. **Haunted-Shadows**, as always, a million thank yous! **a:****sam**, as usual, THANKS! **Wicked Not Evil**, here's an update, please don't kill me! (snickers, then runs and hides) **aoi-yuki-yume**, yes, yes, I do love you, and here's an update! **angelfire33**, love ya, hope ya like! **babykelyse**, hope you dig this one! **Meryl12**, thank you!! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thanks, as usual! you're the best! **Tytianne**, thanks!!!! **power**** of the stars**, I'm glad you're still with me! :) **Corinne**, thank you so much!! **ladyize**, here you go! wouldn't want your health to fall…lol. **musiclover86**, more, as you requested! **Lithui**, and I love you! thanks for reviewing! **quimbytimmons**, thanks a million!! **chrissyangel**, hope this was soon enough! **little-munchkin-poo**, don't worry about it! thanks for reviewing at all! :) **Miss-Elina**, THANKS! **bigreader**, don't worry; I use 'awesome' way too much too! :) **mz.sammiz**, thank you! **Psi**, thanksthanksthanks! **short**** arse**, (snickers) hope you like this one! **gin**** rose raposo1**, thank you so much!!!! **dorkprincess**, deep breaths…take deep breaths…now read on! lol **zhizhi192**, hope this was soon enough! **AineSironaTsuki**, got your review just before posting! thanks, and here's an update!

A special, belated thanks goes out to **Cougar**, **hottemptress** and **Sphinxtress**, who reviewed for Ch. 25 and didn't get put into the review responses because I got them after I posted. So, thanks you guys!!!!

**…………………………………………………………………………………………………**

Isis stretched leisurely as one of her lions got into another squall with one of Sebek's crocodiles, a fond smile crossing her lips. Those two were always bickering. A roar and a hiss later, they'd both fallen headfirst into the Nile. Smirking at the thought of what mortals would say if they could see a lion larger than most of their cars battling with a crocodile the length of a bus, she reflected that it was good to be a goddess. She couldn't resist visiting Egypt in the flesh every few years, even though she hated seeing what most of the people had been turned into. But fate flowed like that, and she knew that it would all be righted soon enough. Soon enough to _her_, anyway.

She knew that her people would sing and worship openly in the streets again; she had Seen it long ago when she'd let Cleopatra place that serpent to her breast. She could smell change on the wind, change for all, god and mortal alike. But _what_ kind of change she didn't know, and the Lady was not answering her calls for the first time since the last of the First Born had been called to Pass. It worried her, but not overly much. Not until she felt a pull that she hadn't felt since the fall of Rome. One of her charms had just been activated, the frantic wish slamming into her consciousness like a thousand sharp knives.

Abandoning the Shadow Realm instantly, she relaxed once she was back within the Dark Court's Hall. The agony receded, and she was able to examine the situation. To say that she was shocked when she discovered who asked for an age-old form of aid was quite an understatement. Why in Chaos would Cocidius's Chosen need _her_ help? Cocidius matched her in power, was probably even stronger, truth be told, but…_No. No, no, no._ Scanning the ripples of the flame-haired princess's emotions revealed more than could be possible. No one would _dare_…Turning her attention away, she seeked out the missing two.

_There, _she thought, finding the quivering wisps of their passage in the ether. They were in the Light Realm! What in the Seven Hells was going on? Where was Cocidius? Reaching out for him with long familiarity, she nearly lost her link to his Chosen when she felt…nothing. For the first time since the Dawn of the World, Isis, Queen Goddess of Magick and Life, felt fear. Then his Chosen were being moved again, back to the Shadow Realm, and she followed mentally. When the deity holding them prisoner tried to kill them, she deflected the first blast out of anger, not even thinking of the charm. And when that energy collided with hers, she knew who it was.

Howling in fury, she threw bolt after bolt of his power back at him, drawing on her own divinity and not having time to be surprised at just how strong he'd somehow become. She saw him give up, saw his foul deeds, before letting the connection go. Someone was shaking her, and she looked up to see her son, Horus. Feeling as if she'd literally been stabbed in the back, she saw his startled expression when he met her wild, infuriated eyes. Slamming her hands on the floor underneath her, she started channeling the power of the Dark Court, ignoring the other gods who appeared in the room when they felt her doing so.

She felt more than saw Osirus kneel beside her, and his mind joined with hers. Enjoying the feel of his igniting rage as he learned what she had, she continued calling power. They would find Cocidius. They would set him free. She would honor his Chosen's wish to the best of her ability, just as she had always done. She sensed now that the time was approaching, the time of the changes that she had foreseen. War loomed before them, awakening her battle lust for the first time in millennia, and she knew not how it would end. But she knew one thing. She would scour the universe from end to end to until she found Hell's favorite Prince.

And when he was freed, when his constraints were undone, all of Heaven would quiver at their feet.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Padma slowed once she reached the water's edge, her eyes scanning the horizon. She was somewhere in the tropics, although she had no idea where. She could find out by asking the land, but it would eat precious time, and it was essentially unnecessary. Umethi had told her that her friends were almost fifteen leagues offshore, and she needed to reach them swiftly. Making up her mind, she chose the fastest bird that she could name off of the top of her head, pictured it, and shifted. Long seconds of agony creeped by, her world compacting, and then she was shooting through the air, over the rolling waves.

The small body of the White-throated Needletail that she had selected was quite aerodynamic, and the shifter blood in her veins guided her movements, making them smooth and graceful. She had never shifted into a bird, only into different types of great cats so far, and it would have been exhilarating had she not been so driven, one thing and one thing only being at the forefront of her thoughts. Her sleek new form cut through the air like a razor through foam, and she felt as if she were racing time itself. It did not take as long as she'd thought to make it out fifteen leagues, but she had only a moment to marvel at the bird's speed.

She couldn't know if she was exactly in the right spot yet, but Umethi had said fifteen leagues and straight to the east, and that's where she was, high in the clouds. Stilling her wings, she turned her beak downwards and tucked them in tight, diving for the ocean surface far below her. As she neared it, she knew that she only had one shifting option considering how deep she needed to go according to Umethi. Focusing her concentration, she would have screamed had she been able, that transformation hurting much worse than the other had. She felt herself become huge and bulky, felt her legs melt together and her arms bend and reform.

And then she was slicing through the water, all of her senses reeling as she became accustomed to those of a sperm whale. Her eyes became useless, but the world that sonar opened up to her was vast. She never stopped her dive, sending her song out around her widening circles and registering all that was sent back with more than a bit of wonder. Umethi had outlined the permanent landmarks for her to seek out, and it was remarkably easy. She was in the right spot after all, thank the gods. As she went ever deeper, a giant squid tweaked the whale's instincts and nearly distracted her from her course, but she fought it and continued down, down, down.

It didn't seem that she would ever reach the bottom, and the sloping walls of what she guessed was a ravine seemed almost claustrophobic. She usually liked the feel of the earth all around her, but her fear for her friends grew with every fluke-flip. Flashes of them swam through her mind even as she swam for the ocean floor. Flashes of Draco laughing at her and telling her to concentrate, that she could do any spell if she'd just take her head out of the leaves for a minute; flashes of Blaise's mocking grin as he'd taunted her into fighting harder during sword practice, into giving her all and holding nothing back. And flashes of Virginia, happy and safe and _sane_ in their arms.

Then, miracle of miracles, readings of the bottom finally reached her. A new spurt of energy coursing through her, she swam ever harder, frantically searching for the pole and the coffins. _There!_ Just ahead and to the left, she finally found them, and nearly released all of her air in relief. Swimming to the pole, she threw a shield around herself so that the crushing pressure wouldn't kill her when she shifted back to her human form, and so she could breathe. The transformation was relatively painless compared to the last, and a ball of witchlight inside her shield cast an eerie light over the two davascian prisons, the sight of which made her heart pound.

Loosing the dagger from her belt, she moved closer, her shield easily overcoming the weak, careless ones that Dagda had placed around them. He obviously hadn't expected anyone to find them. His mistake. Wrapping one hand in the thick chains attaching them to the pole, she ignored the searing pain and brought the dagger down, putting all of her strength behind the blow. The thin blade bit through the damnable metal, meeting resistance for a moment before going all the way through. The chains sagged in her hand and she dropped them, not paying attention to the ugly, blistering welts that had already spread over her skin.

She'd only touched them for a second, but she could feel the loss of power that second had caused her and cursed. No matter, she wouldn't have been able to haul them back up and to the shore by those chains anyway. She had only one real hope besides trying to Apparate them, which would be risky at best. She couldn't use the portkey that Umethi had given her yet, as the wards stretched out over this part of the sea, so she did the only thing she knew to do, and hoped with everything in her that it would work. Expanding her shield to include both coffins, she looked back and forth between them, wishing she could see through the metal.

But she couldn't, so she brought the blade down again randomly, stabbing it through the metal of the one on her right. Nothing. _Damn it!_ All right, the other one then. That or she was going to have to take her chances of splinching them. The dagger sunk into the other coffin, and that time she knew it had worked immediately as the water outside her shield began churning violently. She swore she could hear it roaring in pure rage, but she didn't have time to ponder it before they were shooting up and she was hanging onto the burning chains desperately, trying not to be ill as they rocketed for the surface.

Just when she knew she couldn't hold on any longer, when she was sure that she was about to be sucked away from them, they erupted past the top layer of waves and into the salty air. Bobbing uselessly, her strength mostly gone and eaten by the metal, she wondered if she would drown. But the water seemed to be holding her up, and she glanced around, seeing the two coffins floating next to her when they should have been sinking. Dropping her shield and ripping off the cloak that quickly became soaked, she threw it over the nearest one and leaned onto it, trying to figure out what in the hell to do next. It's not like she'd had a load of time to plan everything out.

Excited, chippery chattering broke through her scheming, and she felt like sobbing in relief when her cheek was bumped by the long snout of a dolphin. More chattering and energetic splashing came from all around her, and she saw that the majority of them were swimming around the coffin opposite her, which undoubtedly made it Draco's. The dolphin next to her nudged one end of the chains before flipping around and waving its fluke at her. It repeated the process and she realized that it wanted her to tie the chains to them. Half of the pod lined up before the davascian boxes, and she was glad that the chain was so long.

Using the cloak to save her hands any more damage, it took nearly twenty minutes to get them all hooked up where they could still swim, and her hour was long up, leaving her feeling completely wasted. The last of her energy went to ripping the cloak into long pieces and fashioning them into a sort-of harness, since she knew there was no way that she'd be able to hang onto the dolphin's fin all the way back to the shore. They started out as soon as she'd gotten situated, and their strength surprised her. They didn't seem to tire at all, their pace staying steady and smooth, quick and easy. The cry of a gull was the first thing that she was aware of again for a long time.

Looking up, she saw that there was a huge flock flying over them, and several were lighted on the coffin right in front of her, slipping over its surface due to the bumpy ride. Other birds were caught up in the flock as well, as if all of the ones in the general vicinity had come, and she heard a faint whistling that had her realizing the cause. The wind had found Blaise through the hole she'd put in his coffin. A little more alert, she choked back a gasp when she saw the number of fins surrounding them. _Those are not all dolphins_, she thought with a shiver. She hated sharks. She hated fish in general, actually, but _especially_ sharks.

Thankfully, the trip to the shore wasn't too much longer, and she had no choice but to take a moment and commune with the earth when she hit the sand. She had to drag the coffins onto the beach, and she needed strength. Five valuable minutes ticked by before she could stand, and the dolphin waited as patiently as it could while she removed the harness before spraying her affectionately, bumping Draco's coffin again, and zooming off with the others. It was like a finned and feathered escort that disbanded once it had made sure that they'd made it to land. Shaking her head, she made temporary gloves out of the soggy scraps of velvet.

She got the coffins out of the water, shooting paranoid glances over her shoulder at the labyrinth behind her, praying that Dagda wouldn't show up suddenly and try to finish what He'd started. She doubted it though, as He had no reason to think that they would be found, and His wards weren't set to alert Him to everyone that passed through them, since so many did, as Umethi had explained. Taking out the dagger again, she started prying it under the lids' seals until hisses of air signaled her success. She waited until both were done before opening them, because if it was bad, she wanted to get it over with all at once.

She lifted them ever-so-slowly, and the sight that greeted her was so like the one that she'd been confronted with in the common room that she nearly let the lids slam shut again. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to flip the tops all of the way off and onto the sand. Their eyes were closed, not open, and they weren't breathing, not that she'd expected them to be after over a day and a half at the bottom of the ocean. But they were vampires, and they didn't need to breathe to survive. It was more like habit than anything else, she supposed. But that didn't mean that they were alive, either. She didn't have the heart to pry their eyelids open, so she improvised.

At any other time, she would have used herself, but she just didn't have it in her. Casting her senses out, she searched the labyrinth to see if any inside were still alive. _Hmm_…There were four in an underground room playing cards, one pacing back and forth to the north, and one…And one who was unlucky enough to be asleep behind a sand dune not twenty yards from her. Calling the power of the earth up through her feet with every step, she had the wizard in hand moments later, a spell cutting off any screams he may have let loose. He looked at her as if she were a demon, and she might as well have been for all it mattered to him. His end would still be bloody.

Taking him back to the coffins, she knocked him unconscious to stop his struggling instead of wasting more magic on a spell, and then slid in between the boxes once more. Getting behind him on her knees so that his weight fell against her chest, she stretched both of his arms out, holding his wrists with her hands and guiding them until they hovered over her friends' mouths. A simple shift was still simple, and her thumbnails grew into deadly points, slicing through ligaments and veins carelessly. Blood began flowing darkly from the deep wounds, splattering in thick drops on their blackened lips, and she waited with baited breath for a small eternity.

The seconds ticked by, ringing impossibly loud in her ears, and the tears rising in her throat shocked her in a vague, detached way. She hadn't thought she'd had any left. Still the blood dripped and still they stayed unmoving, and she wondered if she'd been too late, cold fear filling her from head to foot at the thought. But the water and the dolphins and the birds…Surely that meant they were alive? Or would the animals of their domains still hearken to the calls of their corpses? She really didn't want to find out, and her mind whirled, trying to think of _something_. Unbidden, a song of lamenting and rebirth spilled from her lips in ancient Gaelic.

She kneeled there, her voice rising and falling, and she called out to them as she called out to her god, wanting to feel Him back inside her more than anything. Everything had been so _empty_ since the failure of the trip to Nor Gorgun. So empty and lifeless and dull, and she wanted her friends back, she wanted her god back. And then, like the first glimpse of the moon on a starless night, a single silver eye cracked open the minutest bit, followed on the other side by a splash of brilliant blue. Her song died as she started in surprise, her hands clenching and causing the blood to flow faster. With a snake's sudden quickness, lips parted a second before they struck.

Their hands shot out and grabbed the bleeding offerings, dragging them to their mouths and sinking fangs deep into the flesh. The wizard woke up then, his eyes widening in horror when he saw that he was being feasted upon, silent screams pouring from his throat. But she had no compassion for one who worked for a tainted god, and she could be as cold and heartless as Mother Nature when angered. That's why she let him stay awake that time, let him see his death as it closed in on him from all sides. His blood flowed faster when his heart was thrumming in primal fright anyway. And then he was slumping, his eyes glazing and falling shut as it beat its final time.

Letting him sink to the sand carelessly, she watched breathlessly as her friends' fingers curled around the edges of the coffins, as their eyes opened fully and their tongues darted out, licking the stray blood from their skin. Then they were rising and she was sobbing, kicking the acolyte out of her way as she held a hand out to each of them. They took them without even looking, their gazes glued on the stars, and she pulled them out of the cursed coffins, leading them away so that the metal wouldn't accidentally brush against them. They turned to her slowly and she threw her arms around them, feeling as if she would explode right then and there from sheer joy.

They returned the embrace after a few hesitant seconds, as if their memories were only slowly resurfacing, and then their arms tightened around her as they started shaking. She knew, on some level that had nothing to do with magical connections and divine Marks, that everything was coming back to them too swiftly, and she let her voice rise in song again, enveloping them in the soothing touch of the earth underneath her. They needed more blood and they needed it quickly, so she drew away once their breathing had evened out. Running her eyes over them, she studied the extent of their injuries, trying to decide the best course of action.

The wounds had healed only fractionally, and they were too severe for them to be able to draw on enough energy from the wind and water to heal themselves while they were still so weak. And she…Well, she was running on borrowed time herself. They needed to get out of the wards as soon as possible. She opened her mouth to tell them so, when Draco and Blaise's eyes met and the rest of the world seemed to fall away. It seemed they had not seen one another until that moment, and there were entire galaxies of meaning in that single meeting of silver and cerulean. They did not see the burns and the blisters, did not see the charred skin. They only saw each other.

She turned away when Blaise's fingers rose in wonder, tracing over one of Draco's cheekbones as if he could not believe his eyes, and she let herself fall back onto the sand. _Let them have a moment_, she told herself. _You would wish it too if your last thought had been that you'd lost your soulmates forever_. Her eyes rising to the heavens, she sought out her favorite constellations. There was Cetus, which she had always thought looked like one of the strange mooncalf creatures that made crop circles, then Cassiopeia, which looked a lot like the symbol for earth in the old tongue, then Gemini, the constellation of her birth, and, of course, Draco, although it looked more like a snake to her than a dragon.

"Padma?" Their voices jolted her back to reality, and she shot up quickly. "Where is Virginia?"

"Back at the castle. We must go. Can you walk?" She asked, getting to her feet, small thrills of happiness oozing through her at the thought of taking them back to Virginia, of seeing the girl smile again. And just at the thought of them _alive_. They were really alive!

"Oui." They said, rising slowly to their feet, their wounds obviously still bothering them.

"Then come. We must sneak back through the labyrinth and get out of the wards. I have a portkey from Umethi to get us to Hogwarts." She said, and ghosts of their usual smirks drifted over their lips.

"Umethi? How typical." They replied, and they started off across the sand, her in the lead since they had no idea where they were going.

They reached the maze of stone passageways soon enough, and she made them wait behind each corner while she scouted ahead. She was stronger, which was quite sad considering her condition, but she was too drained to cast her senses out again, and they couldn't risk a fight right then. Draco and Blaise were, for once, too weak to argue with her. She was pretty sure that they were almost out when she came to a dead end. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, because she was positive that there had been a door there before. She was in a medium-sized room that was filled with shadows, but the single scrap of tapestry on the wall confirmed that it was the right one.

_Shit_, she thought acidly._ Well, this is just bloody fabulous_. Starting a circle of the room's perimeter, she ran her fingers over the wall, searching for some sign of the missing door. But there was nothing. She was about to give up and go back to her friends, when a long coil of hated metal wrapped around her throat and drug her to the floor. Scrabbling at it as it ate through her skin and stole what little power she had left, she felt her insides turn to ice when a hooded figure wielding a scimitar came to stand above her. _No. No, not now. Please not now_. But there was no changing this fate, this nightmare from her vision.

She didn't even scream as her sister brought the blade down and into her chest.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Blaise couldn't remember ever having been so tired in his life. Okay, well, maybe a few times, but not since their fathers had died. He needed blood. Soon. Every minute that passed made the hunger gnaw at him more and more viciously, and he knew Draco was experiencing the same. All he wanted right then was to get back to Hogwarts, snog Virginia senseless, drain a few fifth years, and collapse into a healing sleep for an age or two. Instead, he was crouched beside Draco in some dingy hallway that was filled with dirt and sand, waiting for Padma to find their way out of this hellhole maze. Life had definitely taken a turn to the shitty side.

But then again…Draco was beside him, and that could make any situation bearable. And the last thing he'd seen were Draco's eyes falling shut in what he'd been sure was death. But he was _alive_, gloriously alive, and seeing him that way when they'd been freed had been like swimming through a pool of rapture and contentment. Draco was alive, Virginia was safe at the castle, and continuing to exist wasn't nearly as hard with those two things as incentive, even though his body was screaming in torment every time he so much as breathed. Needless to say, he'd given up on that a while ago. Chilled fingers ran down his cheek, drawing him from his thoughts.

"And what makes you smile so?" Draco asked in a low whisper, and goosebumps ran over the parts of Blaise's flesh that hadn't been melted and burned.

"You, of course. You and our lady. Do you think she's missed us?"

"If she hasn't, we'll make her remember why she should have." Draco replied, as much of a teasing lilt as he could manage entering his voice.

"I thought you were dead." The words left Blaise's mouth before he even thought of speaking them, and Draco's hand wrapped itself in his hair.

"I know. I thought you were too." Draco said, his silver eyes dulling briefly with remembrance. "Do you remember being trapped?"

"Oui." Blaise responded after a few moments, the lightest of shudders running over his skin. "I thought I was in Tartarus. I had to watch you both burn and scream, and I could do nothing."

"What did He do to us? It had to have been a spell, or—" He stopped when they both heard a dull thud around the corner. "What was that?"

Blaise shook his head, not sure. Their senses were dampened along with their strength, but it didn't stop them from going to investigate. They took the corner and crept down the hallway, scanning everything they could. Silence covered all thickly, until the unmistakable sound of a blade sliding through flesh and bone met their ears. A shared glance later, they were moving as quickly as their abused bodies could manage, and they went through the doorway seconds later only to have rage engulf them from head to foot. Flashes of Padma and Virginia's vision slid through their minds, intertwining with the reality before them.

Padma had a curved sword sunk in her chest, and Parvati stood over her, laughing. Then her eyes lifted and met theirs, and she paled rapidly, moving back and nearly tripping over her own robes. _Oh yes_, Blaise thought vehemently, _be__ afraid, little witch, be very fucking afraid_. They might have been weakened, they might have been fighting just to stay conscious, but they were still more than a match for that traitorous little Gryffindor slut. Draco had wanted her dead for years, ever since Blaise had come back to the common room livid and snarling, her scent coating him like a foul cloud. They moved toward her now, and there was nowhere for her to run.

She met her end on razor sharp claws, and she screamed and screamed as they sliced her into ribbons. They did not feed off of her, refused to, and they went to Padma's side as soon as Parvati's lifeless corpse hit the floor with a wet 'splat'. Their friend wasn't breathing, her eyes closed and her face slack, but her heart was still beating ever-so-slowly, and they saw that the scimitar had just grazed the right side of it. Her spine had been severed, her left lung punctured and she had less than a minute before she Passed, even with her self-healing skills. She was too weak, and so were they. That really left only one choice besides snapping her neck and ending her suffering.

They looked at each other, a million unsaid thoughts racing between them, and they sliced the skin of their wrists open simultaneously. There was no question of morals, no questions of right or wrong, no hesitation and debate on whether or not she would regret it or loathe them for it later. They simply moved to either side of her and let their blood pour between her open lips and down her throat, working its dark magick and latching onto her soul, becoming a part of it as surely as her love for the earth was. They sat there, unmoving, until they knew they were about to pass out, before pulling back and then striking, sharp fangs piercing her own wrists.

They repeated the process, over and over and over, until both were so weary that they couldn't so much as blink without wanting to die. Padma still wasn't breathing, not that they'd expected her to be, but her eyes were opening and her spine and heart were long healed. The transformation heals any physical wounds one has at the time, barring the separation of the head from the body, and their blood was strong even if they weren't at the moment. She gasped suddenly, tiny fangs flashing, and they knew their work was done. She would live. Now it would just be for an eternity. Neither realized they were falling back until they hit the floor, and blackness started eating at their vision.

"What happened?" The voice that had always been rich and soothing was doubly so now, and Blaise couldn't help a small smile. He was light-headed, and distantly felt like he was floating. _Strange_, he thought idly. _I wonder if I'm truly dying now_.

"Hmm." Was all he was able to manage though, and he felt his hand being taken in an iron grip.

"_What have you done!?_" Padma shrieked, losing her cool completely. "Fools! You were half-dead to begin with! My life means nothing compared to yours! It means nothing compared to Virginia's sanity!" That name cut through his foggy thoughts like a hot brand, and he wondered what she meant. Virginia was safe in Slytherin, wasn't she?

"Wha—?"

"She went mad when you were taken." Padma sounded as if she were being ripped in two, and her grip on his hand tightened as she spoke words that horrified them as nothing else could. "Your corpses showed up on the second day. She thinks you dead and lost to her. And I was so close to having you back…"

Oh gods, _no_. No, no, no. Would they have been able to survive the same thing? _Yes_, his mind hissed at him, _you would have endured long enough to drag their murderers with you into Hell_.

"What do I do now? Y-You're dy-dying." She continued, her voice breaking with a sob. "And I'm still so weak. I don't know what to do, I can't think properly, and I'm being eaten away by hunger as we speak, though I know not what I hunger for."

"Bloo-" He heard Draco try to explain, and Padma caught on quickly enough.

"I figured so. Now how do I get you out? I will not let you perish here!" She exclaimed, and her conviction would have been touching had he been able to feel anything at all. "We need help." She finally admitted in a broken whisper, and he silently agreed. Their situation definitely didn't look good, at any rate.

"Well, I suppose that's what _I'm_ here for, yes?" A voice like liquid night said from somewhere above him, and he heard Padma's startled, in-drawn breath. Trying to focus, he could only make out floor-length hair as black as his own and streaked with blood-red strips, huge shadows to either side, and a face that could make gods weep when confronted with its dark radiance.

"Who are you?" He heard Padma ask shakily, and the answer made him wish desperately that he could see clearly.

"Me?" The delectable being questioned, and there was a world of power in that utterance. "Why, I'm here to be your savior, as ironic as that is. But you may call me Lucifer."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia rifled through their closet, passing row after row of clothes until she got to the very back. Each item that she touched, filled with their scent and with lingering traces of their auras, only solidified her fury and her longing grief. But she had spent three days grieving; it was time for revenge. Revenge and then release. If killing Voldemort didn't kill her, then she'd do it herself afterwards. Her fingers finally found the thick Egyptian cotton robes that she was looking for, and she smiled, pulling one that had been made for her down before heading back into the bedroom. It slid on without any problems, tailor-fitted and molding to every curve.

It was designed to leave her weapons at an easy reach, the slits and slices in the fabric strategically placed and nearly invisible to one who didn't know they were there. She'd already slid her boots and the sheathes off in order to put on a tight black catsuit, and had then replaced everything before going for the robe. Walking over to one of the huge, floor-length mirrors, she braided her hair back in three thick plaits before twining those together into one and letting it hang down her back. She studied her reflection for a moment, before intoxicating laughter reminded her of her purpose. She had things to do, people to kill.

It was time to break free.

Annoyed at her lack of magic, she stared at the fire pit for a few moments, trying to think of how she was supposed to make a fire when she couldn't call in any wood. They were _mages_, damn it. They didn't have little piles of the shit lying around. Soft laughter and a cold hand turned her around, and she attempted to figure out what they were trying to tell her. All she could see were the divans and the bookshelves, and she definitely wasn't burning the books. She'd set a house elf on fire first. More laughter, as if they knew what she was thinking, and then she understood. She wouldn't burn the books. But she would burn the divans.

Breaking them up was mildly difficult, as they were made from sturdy wezdink wood, but she had a considerable pile in the pit within minutes. Fire wasn't hard to come by, the room was littered with candles and torches, and she took one of the latter off of the wall. Taking it with her, she walked to the far corner by the bathroom and spoke the password to open the hidden cubbyhole there. Reaching in, she felt around until her fingers brushed over leather and an icy charge slid over her skin. She could feel her own magic weaved inside it as well, and pulled the book out before shutting the hole once more.

It was her lovers' Book of Shadows. She still had her own from before she'd gotten with them, but it had been abandoned in favor of the one she now held. It resonated with their energy, fire, ice and lightning trapped within its pages, and she stroked the cover fondly. Had any hand but theirs touched it, a most unpleasant death would soon follow unless they counteracted the curse. She supposed that Padma and the twins could handle it, but probably only if their Marks were functional. _Do not think of Cocidius_, she told herself sternly. _Do not think of the aching emptiness_. She had to be strong. She had to keep fighting off her madness until her work was done.

But it was there, like a hungry wolf nipping at her heels, and it wouldn't be ignored much longer, no matter how strong her will. Her grief was too great, too breaking, for her to overcome it. She didn't even want to try. There would be no 'moving on' for her. Because they were, quite simply, everything. And without them, she was nothing. Even her body agreed with her there. She knew that she had faded in the last few days; she knew that she was slowly dying. But she had no intention of waiting for that dragging, agonizing death. No, she would go out in a burst of glory just as they had done. She would make them proud.

Opening the book, she sprinkled a circle of salt around the fire pit as she recited the words of an old Celtic chant. Her magic couldn't escape into the circle to charge it, but the salt would still do its job, and the book's magick aided her. The spell she needed was towards the middle of the book, if the thing even _had_ a beginning, middle or end. The pages in it would never be filled, as a blank one waited at the back no matter how many times it was used. To find a certain entry, you simply had to concentrate. She could still do _that_, thank the Lady, and her eyes ran over the spell. Yes, she'd remembered correctly. It could break her binds.

Finishing her circle, she sat beside the fire pit with the book and the torch, and she lit the kindling, watching the play of flames over wood. The popping and crackling melded with her lovers' laughter, which had started anew when her circle closed. She threw the torch in with the rest, and laughed herself when a spark flew out and hit her cheek. Its warmth was brief, instantaneous, nothing at all like what she was about create. Her voice began the spell slowly, making sure that her pronunciation was correct, before the reservoirs of power in the book opened up to her. They were there in case of an emergency like this one, and she soaked it all in greedily.

Once she was filled with it, once she tingled from head to toe, she began the true spell, the one that would set her loose, that would break the magickal ties that thought to keep her quiet and docile. The void rushed in, filling her and her circle, and the rest of the world melted away. She was surrounded by the living blackness, and a small, purple glow was all that she could see. It grew larger and larger and she saw that it was a cage, a cage with her inside, and the other her was beating at the bars of it. Gliding over, she examined it and knew the book's power could break it. Her lovers had prepared well for such an event.

She was slightly surprised at the ease of ripping that cage into sparkling pieces, and she gasped when the other her collided with her and melded into her. Feeling her magic returned to her, she howled with triumph and glee. _Free!_ Now she would make them see. Now she would make them realize their folly in trying to trap her. Slamming back into her body, she let her power build and build, let it flow into every cell and vein, let it stream down to the tips of her hair and run over and under her skin in ruby torrents. Reaching the level where she would usually have stopped, she continued channeling energy, continued feeding the inferno growing within her.

But that inferno soon morphed into something different, something infinitely hotter and deadlier, and this, _this_ was why her beloveds called her their sun, their raging star. Her skin became flames, her hair molten lava, and the fire inside her core became a nova waiting to explode. Flowing to her feet, she broke her circle with the smallest psychic push, and her light burst forth from it, blinding in its intensity. Pure heat rolled off of her, and she had to make a conscious effort not to incinerate everything with ten yards of her glowing, flickering form. Floating to the portrait, her toes barely skimming the marble, she blasted it open, along with the shields around the room.

Sliding out into the hallway, it was a swift trip to the common room. Nearly everyone was there, and they'd come running at the sound of the explosion. They were soon running the other way, however, as the heat and light she was giving off forced them back. The twins were the first to recognize her, and she could see them fighting off the effects of a sleeping draught as they stared in disbelief. She did not want to fight them to get away, and lips like lightning brushed over her ear before a ghostly whisper gave her an idea. They had bound her in love, she knew that even past her anger, and now she would return the favor, and more.

Before they even knew what was happening, binding spells of her own snapped up over the entire House. It would not keep them from their magic, but from leaving. Then shields, shields to keep them safe, and she was gone. Apparating through the wards of Hogwarts should have been impossible. But she _was_ fire then, purely fire, and she was the most powerful witch the world had seen in millennia. No light magic wards could stop her, not anymore. Tom wanted to play games, wanted her. Well, he had gone too far this time, much too far, and he was about to get both. He should have paid more attention to the old proverbs, for one held true no matter what world or Realm you called home.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first thing that Draco was aware of after their trip to…wherever, was blood sweeter than ambrosia sliding down his throat and pooling inside him, strong and eternal. His lips clamped on the bleeding flesh at his mouth eagerly, wanting moremoremore. He could feel his power coming back, could feel his wounds healing and his mind sharpening, and he would have screamed in ecstasy, but that would have involved him removing his teeth from the blissful fount of dark divinity that was returning him to full strength so rapidly it was making his head spin. It stayed there, feeding energy into him, long after a mortal would have been dead.

But finally, eventually, it gradually drew back, and he was so sated that it didn't even occur to him to fight to keep it there. His vision was swirling with a plethora of colors, his skin was hypersensitive almost to the point of being deliciously painful, and he absurdly felt like giggling madly. The only time he'd felt anything like it was after feeding off of Cocidius, but it was not his master's blood that was currently overwhelming him, although it was strangely similar. Hallowed fingers ran over his bloody lips and down to his throat, continuing in a trail down his chest and stomach that had his body and senses coming fully awake and aware.

Those perfect fingers brushed over his groin and his eyes shot up, the caress finally registering in his brain. He was confronted with a majestic creature full of more dark beauty than he had ever seen any being infused with, and recognition lit within him. His gaze ran over chiseled cheekbones and blood-red lips, over raven hair as black as Blaise's, over the muscled form encased in midnight leather, over two huge, feathered obsidian wings, and then his eyes met those of the first god to ever Fall. Eons filled those ebony orbs, eons filled with pain and suffering and hate, with joy and laughter and love. He had always wanted to meet Lucifer, the Bane of the Burning God.

"My lord." He intoned reverently, and those crimson lips quirked.

"Silver Prince." The High King replied in a voice that reverberated with sensual seduction and the promise of all things wicked. "It is good that you wake. Long have I wished to speak with you."

"Blaise? Padma?" He asked, sliding into a sitting position. The huge, glorious wings blocked his view of most everything around him, not that he truly minded. Another hand snaked under the layers of feathers, elegant, black tipped fingers intertwining with his, and the wing shifted, allowing him to see his lover's flushed cheeks and glowing eyes, his bloody mouth and healed form.

"Safe, as you can see." Lucifer said softly, and the other wing drew back to reveal Padma, who was just coming to her senses.

They were on a bed that seemed to stretch on forever, the sheets as soft as clouds and the air heavy with the scent of blood and myrrh. He could not see anything but for the bed, the void encompassing all and the only light coming from their skin. Lucifer lived up to His name, and his bone-pale skin was alight as if he were lit from within by a thousand suns. The Morningstar, indeed. He was almighty and supreme, celestial and mystical. He had Fallen from Heaven ages ago, and ruled Hell with a velvet fist that would comfort as quickly as it would crush. He accepted all forms of magic as His rival did not, and wizarding children of dark families worshiped Him as well.

They knew next to nothing about His counterpart, the Burning God, besides the fact that He had slaughtered their people for centuries, but they knew as much about the Son of Morning as they did about the other gods. He associated with few other deities, but Cocidius had told them that they had been friends (and more than likely lovers) since long before the vision of humans was put into play. As His Chosen, they had nothing to fear from this Lord of Hell, and therefore reveled in His presence. They knew that muggles cursed His name, swearing Him evil, and they were probably right. But He was magnificent in His depravity. Muggles were fools.

"The Dark Court hunts for Cocidius." Lucifer told them, feathers tickling over their flesh and making them shiver in delight. "Isis had a most disturbing revelation."

"Is He alright?" Padma asked, her voice slightly pleading. Draco knew how she felt. The absence of Cocidius was like a knife in the soul, one that kept revolving and twisting and causing wave after wave of never-ending agony.

"We do not know yet. I've linked to her, but she searches still. We know only that he's been trapped by the power of the Light Court." He replied, acid creeping into that honeyed tone. "I find it stupid of them to consent to such a thing, and I wonder now if they did. They know that what has been done to him means open war between the Courts."

"The gods are going to war?" Blaise asked, and curiosity, not the expected fear, filled his blue-but-not-blue eyes, causing Lucifer to laugh. They all gasped as the harmonious, nefarious sound of it rolled over them, feeling as if those feathers had just run the length of them with a lover's familiarity.

"Trust it to be the Chosen of Cocidius who find that prospect enticing. He always did get all of the good ones." The Morningstar commented wryly, ebony eyes running over them with appraisal. "Perhaps he'll share." His bewitching smile became razor-edged and feral.

"I think not, O Mighty Son of the Dawn." A husky, predatory voice said from behind them, and another shift of fluttering wings revealed Hades, the Greek God of Death and the Underworld, the High King of Tartarus. He could have been Lucifer's twin but for the lack of wings and His inky black lips and tongue. "If these Shadow dwellers are shared with anyone, it will be _me_."

"Don't you have something better to do?" Lucifer asked, turning that devilish smirk on the other god. "It _is_ winter in Greece, after all. Surely Persephone grows lonely."

"I've come to tell thee to quit dawdling." Hades responded, His gold and silver crown flashing in the flickering light. "We think we've found him, and they must go before their lover dies."

"_Dies?_" Draco and Blaise questioned in unison, beginning to rise until Lucifer motioned them back. Reluctantly they slid back down, waiting for the rest.

"You found Cocidius?" Lucifer questioned, and Hades gave a barely perceptible nod.

"We believe so. I haven't seen Isis and the other Queens so enraged in…Hmm. Since the last war, I suppose." Hades said, moving closer and falling to His knees beside Lucifer in front of them. "They are quite beautiful, are they not?"

Well. _That was certainly off subject_, Draco thought dryly.

"Exceptionally so. And have you seen the other? Like our Realms' fires, she burns bright and fierce."

"I'm aware of that. The entire Court felt her unleashing earlier. The ether shook with it." Hades said, and Draco's patience, even with gods that he adored, was running thin. What unleashing? What had she done? Where _was_ she?

"Do not frown so." Lucifer teased, looking between him and Blaise with a smirk that could enchant demons. And had.

"Thee still has time." Hades added, his voice as musical as the other's, though the tones were slightly different; unique.

"Time for what? Is she in danger?" Draco asked, itching to do something, itching to see her, feel her, know that she was safe in their arms.

"Yes. But not from what she thinks. She has gone after that miscreant Dark Lord to avenge your deaths." Lucifer told them, and they very nearly died right there on the spot. Their love, their heart, their soul, had walked into a viper's nest that she couldn't comprehend.

"Where is Dagda? Is He there? Fuck, we have to go, we have to get her out of there…" They were already rising, the bed turning as hard as a floor underneath their feet, and when they looked down, they saw marble instead of silk.

"No, he's not there, not yet." Lucifer said, going around behind them and starting to plait their hair. They would have lavished in His attention at any other time, but they couldn't then, not while Virginia was in trouble. Padma watched all with her calm, serene eyes, and they felt steadier just knowing that she was with them.

"It is like this, Chosen of Cocidius." Hades started, offering both Draco and Blaise one of His pale wrists. Fangs split divine flesh readily, glad for the extra strength, and they somehow kept their wits about them enough to listen as He continued speaking. "Gods and mortals alike will soon be at war. And thee four…Oh, that _does_ feel good. Now I remember why we were so often drawn to vampiric Chosen…As I was saying, thee four were created to fight it on both fronts. But now is not the time. Cocidius will be weak when he is freed; he's been channeling too much power in order to break his bonds, and Dagda will be strong. And we cannot interfere, it's written in the Lady's stars. Cocidius and Dagda must fight, but _not now_. And if the flame princess kills the traitor's Chosen, Dagda will kill her, therefore throwing destiny askew and damning us all. Lovely news I bring thee, yes?"

"Very." They replied, drawing back from His addicting taste and licking their lips as they considered what He'd said. "So, all we have to do is stop her from killing Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"And if Dagda comes while we are there?" They asked, and the High Kings looked amused, Hades' left wrist extending toward Padma.

"You have the blood of three dark gods in you." Lucifer reminded them. "Just wish yourselves gone. The ether will listen to you now, and you are free to travel it." He said, referring to the psychic roads through the void that the gods used to travel from place to place. The ether was everywhere, in everything, and could carry emotions and disturbances along its paths as well as it could creatures and gods. "And here. I have a gift for you." He extended His hand, and four bands of silver appeared on His palm. They were gorgeous, the detail exquisite, the runes of all four elements twining around them over and over in a ceaseless pattern.

"What are those?" Padma asked, and He laughed again, before giving one to each of them and holding out the forth.

"Consider them your birthright, like your swords. They will help you focus your elemental energy, as well as give you access to the other three through one another. The forth one is for Virginia, of course. I wish for you to bring her to me, sometime before the war gets underway. I have another gift for her." He said, and Draco nodded at Blaise to take the ring. He did, vanishing it and sliding his own on next to his signet ring.

"Go now." Lucifer said, and kissed all three on the lips, sending their spirits soaring. "I will go to Cocidius. You will know when he breaks free. Get in and get out. Your time to fight is not this day." Then He waved one elegant hand, and their world was graying and spinning as they rode the ether, seeking Virginia.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Nor Gorgun had been abandoned. Looking at its empty halls and dead wards, Virginia had felt a wash of pride. So, her boyfriends had spooked the Dark Lord with their easy infiltration. Good. Finding a Death Eater after leaving hadn't been nearly as difficult as she'd imagined it to be, and he had died a nasty death after giving her the information she needed. Voldemort had retreated to the Dark Hall, Grindelwald's old refuge that had been abandoned in 1945 after Dumbledore took off his head. That last part was rarely publicized, but her grandfather had been there. He had seen that battle; he had seen the wizard's head rolling over the blood-splattered grass.

So to the Dark Hall she had gone, and she had swept through its corridors like a Lady of Death, merciless and unpitying. All that she had met had died, except for the rare few that she recognized as her lovers' spies. Over a hundred and fifty fell to her wrath, eighty before the alarm had been raised. Fools. Coming at her in a large group had simply given her the chance to clear out quite a few at once. Her rage burned hot and cleansing, and she scorched the filth from the very stones as she passed. She had sensed the Dark Lord far below her, and she had wound her way to him, stopping only when a random idea had given her quite the brilliant plan.

Thinking of Grindelwald was what had done it, and the next Death Eater she'd come across had found himself missing a head. It now hung, spelled and changed, inside a cloth pouch at her waist, hitting her thigh every time she took a step. It was her ticket; her ticket to get close enough to use her poison. Voldemort was cunning, yes, but he was also foolish. She knew it would work. Casting out her senses, she smiled cruelly when she sensed only seven still alive. That was twice in less than a week that his followers had been wiped out on their home turf. If it hadn't been for the Bane, many would have abandoned his ranks by then.

Nearing the throne room, another smile stole across her face. This was going to be fun. She would greatly enjoy watching the one who had caused her lover's deaths writhe in soul-eating pain at the base of his own throne. His god might have been the one to actually take them, but she didn't think for a second that he had argued. It all came back to him in the end. And now it was time for him to pay. She threw open the doors with a thought, stalking into the room and seeing him lounged carelessly in his throne, still and quiet as if he hadn't felt the deaths of those loyal to him all throughout the Hall over the last hour.

"Well, hello there, Tom." She purred, her dead boyfriends laughing in her ear. Gods, how she wanted to die.

"Virginia." He replied, his scarlet eyes following her every move. She made it fifteen feet from him before he bade her to stop, and she did, which caused the smallest flicker of surprise to manifest itself in his gaze before it was gone. He waved a hand and the doors slammed close, wards springing up in front of them. She felt no fear, though. She had come here to die. Just not alone.

"Aren't you pleased to see your key?" She asked, and that time he couldn't hide his disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she smirked openly.

"Why are you here?" He demanded. "Besides this little revenge mission. How stupid are you, that you would still come, even knowing what you do?"

"Not stupid at all, Tom." She said silkily, sauntering forward another step and looking up at him coyly. "I've come to join you."

He laughed. "Do not lie to me. You would never join me."

"Wouldn't I?" She asked, running her tongue over her lips. "I wish to rule. I've discovered that power suits me. And with my lovers gone…" She trailed off suggestively, even as her words ate at what little was left of her soul.

"I do not believe you." He stated, his eyes running over her. She wondered how much he could see through the flames that she was made up of, and dampened them a bit. Taking another few steps toward him, she undid the pouch at her waist.

"But you should." She argued. "And I've brought you proof. I wish to collect on the deal you offered my late lovers."

"And which deal would that be?" He asked sarcastically, but instead of answering, she wrapped her hand in the head's hair and drew it out slowly, enjoying his look of growing shock as she revealed her 'prize'.

"You didn't!" He exclaimed, rising from his throne in one graceful move, triumph obscuring his beautiful features.

"But I did. Dumbledore's head, my lord, just as you requested." She said, the title feeling vile on her tongue even as it came out sugary sweet. She tossed the graying, wrinkled head at his feet, and almost crowed in victory when Voldemort turned smoldering eyes on her and beckoned her forward. She moved towards him, absently scratching her arm as it started itching, and she had to force herself to kneel, had to force herself to remember that the end result would be worth it.

"You will be my Consort, of course." He started, and she glanced up at him briefly through her hair, which she had let loose of its braids before coming to see him. He continued on, detailing how great and unstoppable they would be, and she discreetly slid the vial of blood and tears into her hand. The cork disappeared down her sleeve, followed shortly by the vial, and the mixture sat heavily on her tongue, waiting to heal or kill at her will.

She wondered if it would kill her as well should she wish it.

"Rise." He finally said, wrapping his hand in her tresses and yanking her up by them roughly. "You have lost some of your beauty since their deaths," he commented disdainfully, "but you shall gain it back, and you shall be my greatest weapon, my greatest whore." He crooned in her ear, and she had to stop herself from spitting in his face.

Then his lips were on hers, his forked tongue snaking into her mouth, and three things happened at once. She grabbed his head, opened her mouth to his and forced the poison down his throat; the Mark on her arm flared to life for the first time in much too long; and the doors leading into the room burst open, flying through the air and hitting the opposite wall. Voldemort threw her back from him, gagging and spluttering as his skin started smoking, and she braced herself to hit the floor hard. But she never did, and when she looked up, she very nearly fainted. Because Draco had caught her, which was impossible, and Blaise stood in front of her, his hand raised to stop any curses that the Dark Lord might attempt.

She could do nothing but stare for a long, never-ending moment, and that tinkling laughter sounded behind her again, before the two skeletons that had haunted her came into view, waved once, their bony hands swaying, and stepped into the two visions before her, melding with them and becoming one. Something vital within her shifted back into place, the wounds around her bleeding heart sealing up with the rush of divinity that confirmed she was not hallucinating, that they were real and her god was truly back. Then she was sobbing, throwing her arms around Draco as if he were going to disappear, and she fisted a hand in Blaise's robes, dragging him down to her. Fuck the stupid Dark Lord. He was dying anyway.

"Oh gods, you're _alive_! How are you alive? No, I don't even care. _Alive_!" She said ecstatically, laying kisses over every inch of them that she could reach, her hands running over familiar muscles and robes of utter blackness that were like the ones the Lady had given them, but different. They were alive, _with her_, whole, unblemished, and ALIVE, and she couldn't breathe through the absolute, engulfing joy that threatened to make her completely insensible. They embraced her just as tightly, brushing the tears from her cheeks (that hadn't evaporated) away with soft lips and darting tongues. And then, cementing her returned happiness, Cocidius spoke to them and her heart soared, even though His words were a warning.

'_He comes. Go, take her and go. I will come for thee later. We have much to discuss. Be safe, beloved __Chosen__, and know that I am with thee._'

'_Will Voldemort survive? Can Dagda heal that?_' Her lovers asked, their eyes on the smoking form of the Dark Lord. '_Lucifer and Hades said that it was not his day to die, that—_'

'_Yes, Dagda will more than likely heal him. The leech has the power, for the moment. Now go! I am not strong enough to fight him yet._'

"Come on, love." Draco said, helping her to her feet. She glimpsed Padma for the first time, off to the side, and something was different about her. But she didn't have time to figure it out yet, as she could feel the growing presence of a different divinity coming towards them. She did have time for one thing though, and she walked to Voldemort's side, her boyfriends at hers, before leaning down and meeting anguish-filled crimson eyes that burned with hate. She recalled the words that she'd spoken to him once before, and repeated them to him then, in his darkest hour, before disappearing with her returned lovers.

"In vengeance, Voldemort."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Whew. Things are definitely heating up! Please (begs on hands and knees), pleasepleaseplease review!!!!

(Sebek – Egyptian God of Water and Crocodiles)

(Horus – Egyptian God of the Sky and Sun)

(Osirus – Egyptian King God of Death and the Underworld)

(Persephone – Greek Queen Goddess of Innocence and the Underworld)


	28. Cogitation et Sanatio

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, oh, sweet goddess, where to start? How about with 'I adore you'?** Catalina Royce**, love you as always! (bows to your greatness) **jenn**, ahh, no! she won't be a Slytherin, I promise!** Cloaked**, yeah, I thought you'd like Lucifer, lol. love ya!** madcow**, she made them up 'cause she was going mad. :)** SkotosEnigma**, (drools) I ADORE your pic of Hades! Thanks!!!!** sillysun**, (grants your wish) enjoy!** Wicked Not Evil,** thanks so much! **nicky**** j**, yes, He was channeling their power without their consent. :) **aoi-yuki-yume**, updating! hope you like! **harry-fanfic-reader**, THANK YOU!! **manda-hplover4life**, thank you! **musiclover86**, thanks!! **Tom4ever**, thank you! **VirginVixen-666**, I just wrote Him the way that I'd always pictured Him, lol. **angelfire33**, interesting review as usual, darling! love ya! **Wytil**, thanks! **Psi**, as usual, thank you!! **Sphinxtress**, yeah, her kissing him _was_ gross, huh? lol **Erin**, THANKS!! **TarynMalfoy88**, thanks! hope you like this one, too! **otaku**** sae**, hopefully you'll get your wish, lol! **quimbytimmons**, my beta is Microsoft Word, lol. **Meryl12**, I'm glad you're liking it! **babykelyse**, cool! and thank you! **el**** chikita joules**, thanks, and Herm's situation will be farther explained later. :) **bigreader**, hey, 'awesome' is a cool word! lol **short arse**, I'm glad you liked that Hades part! so did I! :) **mz.sammiz**, no, she just spelled a Death Eater's head to look like his, lol. **Fallen**, behold their love! :) **kayla**, okay, you're quite freaky, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop with the stalker shit. seriously. **Cougar**, sort-of. I'm pagan, so I knew a lot of it already, lol. **kia**, thanks! **Lisa**, thanks so much! I'm really glad you like it! **a:****Sam**, behold the chapter you spoke of! lol **power of the stars**, you don't have to worry about _that_. :) **Haunted-Shadows**, cool, I'll probably check it out later, lol. and thanks! **Lithui**, THANK YOU!! **gin**** rose raposo1**, thanksthanksthanks!!!! **me**, as always, THANKS! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, thank you! and you will, trust me! **sexyjunkie**, thanks! it's good to know that it's appreciated! **Tytianne**, thank you! speechlessness is always good! (I hope, lol) **Lorna Lynn**, thank you so much!!

Okay, here we go!

**………………………………………………………………………………………………….**

Appearing at the border of the Forbidden Forest, Padma breathed a sigh of relief. It was over; they were safe. For the moment, anyway. Draco, Blaise and Virginia slid out of the ether next to her, and she couldn't stop a smile when she saw the girl's eyes lit up with bliss and lingering traces of disbelief. A group of shadows melted out of the trees beside them, and the Ezutîël kneeled before their lords. Draco and Blaise stared for a moment, before laughing and crouching beside the lead figure. They were embracing the next second, as the guard forgot all formalities and grabbed them roughly, and Padma took one of Virginia's free hands.

"They're _alive_, Padma." The girl whispered breathlessly, her eyes locked onto her lovers. "Whatever you did, thank you. Thank you so fucking much."

Padma hugged her and wiped the last of the lingering tears off of her face. She had doused the flames that had made her up when they'd first arrived at the Dark Hall, and Padma could see that every ounce of beauty stolen from her seemed to have been returned threefold. She was ethereal, like the Sidhe of legend or a Goddess Incarnate, her every feature lined and shining with utter joy. And that was all of the reward Padma needed. Everything that she had gone through to get the two Slytherins back had been more than worth it, and she knew then, looking at Virginia's sparkling charcoal eyes, that she would do it again a million times over.

"There is no need to thank me." Padma said softly. "The three of you and the twins are my world. You have given me more than I can say. It was the least I could do."

"I—" Virginia started, but Umethi's voice cut her off.

"If you ever do something so bloody stupid again, I'll kill you myself!" The guard exclaimed, his arms still tightly around his masters. The other Ezutîël nodded their agreement, dark hoods concealing their features as always, and they all moved in closer to the two Slytherins, running gloved fingers over any part of them that they could touch. Padma and Virginia were quite shocked to see the fearless guards shaking, diamond-like silver tears falling to the snow underneath them and glittering in the moonlight.

"And we'll let you." Blaise replied, one hand disappearing inside that hood and cupping a cheek they couldn't see. "Forgive us?"

"Always, my lord." The nine intoned in unison, rising when their masters got to their feet and beckoned them to do the same.

"We owe you our lives, you know." Draco said, his mercury eyes trained on Umethi. "Again."

"It is my duty." The guard responded faithfully, before his voice lightened a bit. "And my pleasure. Now, I would recommend returning to your House. Those shields your fire sprite erected around it have kept them completely isolated. The twins' Marks have not so much as felt a twinge of yours or Cocidius's return because of them. They've been trying to escape for hours. The noise became quite deafening more than a few times."

"We will go at once, then." Blaise said, and he and Draco let each of the guards lay silver-streaked lips on their cheeks before they vanished back into the forest without another word.

Their trip to the castle was anything but silent, words spilling from them happily as they told Virginia all that had happened, and as she told them her part as well. Padma had been on a mission to save, Virginia on a mission to kill. The fiery girl had gotten her revenge, had gotten revenge for Pansy and Daphne, for herself, and most of all, for her lovers. Voldemort might be healed by Dagda, but he would be deathly ill for a while even if he did survive, and that would give them the time they needed, or so Draco and Blaise said. When Padma had asked '_Time_ _for what?_', they'd just looked at her, and she'd known. Time to raise an army.

And for some reason, she felt the tiniest thrill of excitement just thinking about it. It was growing close, she knew, growing close to the time when one or the other would be defeated for good. And she planned to be there when it happened. Entering the castle silently, their voices dying out, they headed for the dungeons. It was uneventful until they reached the corridor that the Slytherin entrance was in. There they found a large group of teachers and upper-year students milling around, trying to break through Virginia's shields. They were all so intent on their task that no one noticed them at first, until Sprout looked over and saw them, then screamed and dropped her wand.

"Pomona? What's wron—" McGonagall never finished her sentence, her eyes locking onto what had caused the disturbance. Silence soon coated the hallway thickly, the students paling and backing away while the teachers just gawked, all except for Dumbledore, who looked pleased. Fear swirled madly around them, the air thick and tense with it, before Draco stepped forward.

"Boo!"

Six students and Sprout fainted, and the rest screamed heartily, much to their amusement.

"Again," Blaise said cheerfully, looking at his Mark fondly, "I would just like to thank the gods that I was put in Slytherin. I bet none of _them_ faint." He snickered.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Padma mumbled. "Apparently, you mean more to them than you know." Blaise's eyes shot to her, seeming slightly startled, but he said nothing as Dumbledore moved toward them.

"I won't ask how this miracle has occurred for the second time, as I'm sure Professor Snape will fill me in later. I think it would be best for you to return to your friends and families now." The Headmaster said, and Virginia cleared her throat.

"There's just one thing, Professor." She intoned politely, and he nodded for her to continue. "I just wanted to apologize now before the rumors of your death reached you. It was necessary, I assure you."

"My death?" He asked, looking slightly bemused, his eyes still twinkling.

"Hmm." Virginia hummed in agreement. "I sort of needed your head for a minute." McGonagall made a funny choking noise.

"Ah. Well, I'm sure you used it superbly." Dumbledore said, a warm smile on his face. "Now go. They've been frantic since you left. Which I would like to speak to you about later, by the way." He added, raising an eyebrow. She nodded once, and Dumbledore started ushering the students and faculty out of the hallway and back towards the main part of the school, the unconscious ones being woken by Ennervating spells. He flashed them one last smile before he, too, disappeared, and they were left alone.

"I am going to remember that forever." Draco stated, looking quite pleased about the whole mess and turning to face Blaise. "Does that count? It has to count. Did you _see_ their _faces_?"

"Oui." Blaise sniggered. "It definitely counts. And double the points if any Slytherins pass out like Padma figures."

"I cannot _believe_ you two." Padma huffed. "We all thought you _died_, and you think it's funny." Both attempted to look serious.

"Very sorry about that." Draco said, batting long black eyelashes at her.

"The next time a rampaging god tries to kill all of our friends, we'll make sure that it's okay with you first to save them." Blaise agreed, and Padma hit him.

"Oh, just shut up and go let them all know that you're alright." She said, and Virginia tried to hide her smirk behind her hand. Padma poked her. "I saw that."

"Yeah, yeah." The redheaded girl said through her fingers. "Be nice or I won't take the shields down." She threatened, letting her hand drop to her hip. Padma smirked.

"Then I'll do it for you." She said, holding up her left hand, which bore Lucifer's ring.

"Oooooh, what is _that_?" Virginia asked, reaching out and running a fingertip around the silver metal longingly. "Is this the ring that the Morningstar gave you?"

"Yes." Padma said, wiggling her fingers. It felt so good to be talking normally with her, to not see the crushing grief and growing madness in her eyes.

"We have one for you, too." Blaise said, the forth ring appearing in his palm. She took it from him gingerly, examined it from all angles, and slid it on next to the signet ring that had been returned to her along with her family's lands. She shivered when it fell into place and tightened to fit her perfectly, before grinning and looking back up at them.

"Very cool." She said, holding out her hand and watching the runes swim over the surface of the metal. "I can feel you all in it."

"Indeed." Draco replied, twining a curly lock of her hair around one finger. "And you do look good when you wear silver. Perhaps we could cover you in it, hmm?"

"A marvelous idea, that." Blaise commented, his lips brushing over hers lightly. "Do you think they would mind if we cut the reunion short? I very much wish to see how you look lying among a horde of diamonds and emeralds."

"Umm, hello?" Padma cut in when their looks turned steamy and wanting. "Still here, you know. And I doubt you'll have the time for a while. Your mothers are here." Both froze.

"_Our mums are here?_" They asked at once, looking horrified. "So, they thought…"

"Yes." Virginia intoned, just a hint of remembered agony flashing through her eyes before she was smiling softly again. "So, let's do this, shall we?" She inquired, moving for the entrance. She raised a hand to bring down the wards, but her boyfriends stopped her at the last second.

"We shouldn't make this _too_ overwhelming for them." Draco said innocently.

"Oui." Blaise agreed guilelessly. "So, you two go in first. We'll follow in a minute or two. Just don't bring the shields down immediately." He couldn't quite keep all of the humor out of his vivid indigo eyes. Shaking their heads at them, Padma waited while Virginia kissed each briefly before taking her hand. Then they opened the entrance and slid right through the shields as if they were nothing more than air.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lycelle idly wondered if anyone would notice should she happen to start banging her head into the wall repeatedly. Their forced captivity was starting to wear on everyone, and she was about four seconds from snapping completely. They'd tried _everything_ to get out of Virginia's wards, but nothing had even begun to work. Severus had tried to contact Dumbledore, but they had no idea of finding out if the message had gotten through or not. They'd made it strong, though; seventeen of the most powerful Slytherins had drained themselves in its creation. If even a little _twinge_ of it had made it through, it would be enough for Dumbledore to investigate.

But they had seen no sign of any help coming, and after the first four hours, the fighting had started. And since Severus was exhausted, Draco and Blaise were…gone, and Narcissa and Silana were in no condition to govern anyone, Anton had drug himself out of bed to shut them all up. His fury at their childishness in the face of such devastating events had been quite humbling, and they'd all felt about four years old by the time he was finished. He hadn't even yelled or said all that much, but it had had the same effect. Afterwards he had gone to the twins, who hadn't moved or so much as said a word since their sister had left.

So now…Now the mourning had truly started. Everything had been so hectic before, one disaster after another, and no one had really had enough time to sit down and _think_ about it. But now they had, and songs of lamenting had colored the air ever since, one ending only to have another begin. She had joined them at first, but had lost her voice an hour ago and opted to sit by her sister, who had come out to listen to the dirges. Pansy's body was mostly healed, scars that would take a long time to heal without a trip to Reverie the only reminders except for her missing tongue. Padma had managed to return most of her voice to her, but it was useless.

Useless except for when she woke up screaming. It almost made Lycelle wish that Padma had not been successful. But she couldn't comment on it, seeing as how the other girl had gone missing. All she wanted, though, was to see her sister healed, to see her _whole_. She'd given up on any other wishes. But the only healers who could have helped her were all gone, two dead and the other two probably with them in the afterlife by then. Just thinking about it made her feel miserable, but she knew that her own pain was nothing compared to the twins'. The soul-eating torment in their dark, identical eyes was almost enough to make her ill.

"Gods, will any of this ever end?" She wondered aloud, not even realizing that she'd spoken until her sister traced out an answer with one fingertip on her thigh.

'_No. It will never end. They're dead._ _There's no one to hold us together anymore._'

"Anton did a fine job of it earlier." Lycelle pointed out, being quite truthful. Pansy's sorrowful eyes flickered to him, and then her finger started moving again.

'_Yes. He was their confidante, after all. He learned much from them. And that's the problem._'

"What do you mean?" Lycelle asked, confused. Anton was a good leader, a strong leader. And they needed one desperately. Severus was their House's Head and a second father to many, but it wasn't the same.

'_They haunt him enough as it is. How much worse would it be if he was reminded of them with every decision he made, every order he gave?_'

Well. She hadn't thought of it like that. "So, that's out then. What are we going to do?"

'_It's not out. I said that it would be hard. I never said that the stubborn bastard wouldn't do it anyway. I just don't want him to have to._'

"You know, I think that this is the longest I've seen him away from you in days." Lycelle commented, wanting to change the subject. Pansy gave a small smile of acknowledgement.

'_I doubt he would be now if the twins weren't so bad off. They're dying, you know. If Padma and Virginia don't return soon, I don't think we'll be able to stop them from killing themselves._'

"I don't want them to die." She whispered, and all Pansy could do was nod before turning her eyes away and laying her head on the back of the couch they were on.

Sirius came out of Severus's room where Daphne and Bella were still staying, rubbing his temples wearily. Bella had woken a few times over the last few days, and her only question had been why her sister looked so sad. No one had wanted to tell her what had happened, as it could have easily sent her back into madness, and she wasn't exactly sane anyway. Whatever Blaise and Draco had said to her had given her the strength to break the Bane's hold, but they weren't here to finish bringing her back, and no one else had the ability to walk the necessary roads of Reverie to do so, although Anton had volunteered to try once he was back to full strength.

And Daphne…No one knew if she would ever heal or not. Rape was traumatizing enough, but she had held such an aversion for male flesh to begin with that it had made it even more horrid for her to undergo. They were helpless to help her, and it drove them all crazy. Only a select few knew that she'd been raped, as it was her business to tell anyone else, not theirs, but it didn't look as if she'd ever wake enough to tell anyone anything. Lycelle had finally spooned up the courage to ask Pansy if she'd been violated in the same way, and had broken down in tears when her sister had told her no, that she had been spared that indignity due to their family's name.

The Wilbriges were old, pure, but nowhere near as old as the Parkinsons, and they were not Death Eaters. Therefore, Voldemort had not had any reason to curb his perversions regarding Daphne. And pureblood witches didn't take well to rape, not that any woman did. But pureblood females _never_ truly healed. The memory haunted them with every step they took, casting a veil of unrelieved darkness over them for their entire lives. A witch who loses her husband is branded a Widow. But a witch who loses her honor (as they see it) in such a barbaric way is branded a Shadow, because that is what they become. So many mourned Daphne as well.

"How are you doing, honey?" Sirius asked in his easy manner, even though his voice was strained and his eyes red from weeping. He had not taken Draco and Blaise's deaths well at all. He had lost too many people that he loved already, and getting a half-mad Bella back only made the burden more to bear. He had stayed with her and Narcissa almost every minute that he'd been there, and the toll was starting to show in his hunched shoulders and shaking hands.

"Better than you, it seems." She said, giving him a reproachful glare. "You need to rest yourself, you know. You can't run on pure will, Sirius."

"This coming from a thirteen year-old witch who ran herself into the ground and back again before she finally stopped? Hypocrite." He said, trying to tease her lightheartedly and failing, his eyes too dull to be playful.

"I'm almost fourteen." She stated crossly, and realized that she must have been pouting quite pathetically when he laughed dryly at her.

"Don't be in such a hurry to grow up." He said, his half-formed grin falling back into nothing. "It's not all that it's cracked up to be, trust me."

She didn't really know what to say to that, so she decided not to say anything at all. Sirius didn't seem to mind, lost in his own thoughts, and she wondered what was running through his head. Probably the same thing that was going through everyone else's. They were going to die down there, trapped until they starved, but it didn't really matter because Draco and Blaise were dead, Virginia and Padma were gone and more than likely dead as well, and their futures had never looked so bleak. Lycelle's mind tended to warp such situations until they were foggy and utterly fucked up, and she vaguely wondered if they would eat each other before the end.

_Knowing my Housemates_, she thought wryly, _they probably will, starting with the first years. But only after they've transfigured all of the tables and such into something edible. _Sighing, she stood and went to the liquor cabinet to get herself a glass of wine. It's not like anyone would care besides Severus, perhaps, but she doubted even he would stop her at this point. It's not like she could go to classes while everyone was trapped inside the House. She started to get a glass down when a tanned hand stopped her and got it for her. She turned to face Marcello, who was looking as if he felt as shitty as everyone else.

"Let me get it for you, alright?"

"Alright." She agreed, and he poured her a good amount of wine before handing the glass to her and making himself a straight scotch, his grip on the crystal tumbler turning his knuckles white. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He said with a wave of one elegant hand, and she felt the strangest fluttering in her stomach as her eyes followed his long, slender fingers.

Realization soon swamped her, and she nearly died right there from mortification. _No_, she begged silently, _no, my first crush _can't_ be Marcello! _He was older and handsome and absolutely adored among the pureblood circles. He was strong and confident and dark, merciless and deadly; all of the things that she would never be. He could have just about anyone that he wanted, and for her stupid, foolish heart to choose him could only lead to bad, hurtful things, because she wasn't like her Housemates when it came to the flesh games. She'd played, of course, but had soon learned they weren't for her. She wanted something _more_; something that Marcello would never be willing to give her.

"Lycelle?" His voice brought her back to reality, and she hoped to the gods that she wasn't blushing furiously. He brushed her hair back from her face, a move that was common among Slytherins when alone among their own kind, but now it took on a whole new meaning for her. How had things changed so quickly? She didn't have time to wonder on it though, as something caught her attention. The entrance was opening for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Look!" She exclaimed, louder than she had intended, and quite a few people turned to where she was pointing. The entire room was soon avidly watching, and they all jumped up when Virginia and Padma came in, not looking the least bit hurt or defeated. Lycelle saw Anton shaking the twins and whispering something, and their heads snapped up a second before they did. They were at their sister and Padma's side almost instantly, very nearly hyperventilating with relief.

"Oh gods, where have you been? Where did you go?" They demanded of both of them, holding them tightly. What shocked Lycelle was that both girls smiled. She hadn't seen anyone really smile in days, let alone _those_ two. Nervousness settled within her as she wondered if they'd both gone completely mad, or been possessed.

"It's okay." Virginia soothed, her voice full of tranquility, and it only made Lycelle worry more.

"No, it's not 'okay'!" They argued, the panic they'd been feeling showing itself a bit. "We didn't know what you were doing, or where you were going, and we were worried sick! And _you_," they turned on Padma, who actually flinched back a step, "you just disappear without a word to anyone! Do you have any idea how much—"

"But I'm back now." She interrupted, trying to calm them down a bit. It didn't work.

"Yes, but what have you been doing while you were gone, hmm? Were you in danger?" Fred questioned, and Padma paled.

"Umm…" For once, the girl didn't seem to know what to say.

"That's what we thought." George snapped, and the smallest swirl of anger flashed in Padma's green-speckled eyes.

"You don't have to get nasty about it." She said, her voice as steady as ever as her eyes narrowed. "And I don't see why you're blowing this so out of proportion. I—"

"_What?_" Both twins asked incredulously. "'Blowing this out of proportion'? Have you lost your bloody _mind_!? We are _not_ 'blowing this out of proportion'! You fucking vanished without a trace after you'd fed us sleeping draughts!"

"I did _not_ vanish, I—"

"_Enough!_" Virginia stepped in, her own eyes glinting. "We get that you were worried, alright? And we're _sorry_. But the ends justified the means."

"What 'ends'? What did you two do?" By then, the entire House was in the room watching but for Melody, Daphne, Bella, Narcissa, Severus and Silana.

"Well," Virginia started, a mischievous smirk on her face that convinced Lycelle that she _must_ have gone mad, "I went to go see Tom. Would've had the bastard too if I'd gotten to take his head as the poison worked on him. But alas, it was not yet meant to be." She sighed dramatically, and Lycelle nearly dropped her glass. She'd gone to face Voldemort and _poisoned_ him? The girl _was_ insane.

"YOU DID _WHAT_?" The twins' outburst nearly shook the very stones they stood on.

"Oh, come now, I'm fine, aren't I?" She said, smirking at their infuriated astonishment and giving them each a sisterly kiss. "No, it was Padma who really hit gold."

"Oh gods." The twins' voices were lower that time, resigned, and they turned back to Padma as if expecting to get hit with something even worse. Lycelle didn't blame them. She was still reeling from the first revelation.

"Would you like to see her spoils?" Virginia questioned, her eyes sweeping across the room. They all nodded, somewhat hesitantly, and she lifted her hand, snapping her fingers three times. They felt the shields around the room come down, and a split second later, Fred and George both gasped, clutching their forearms and nearly falling over. Then they were straightening, looking around wildly as if seeking something or someone.

"Where are they?" They choked out, and Lycelle wondered if they'd lost it too. Where were _who_?

Everyone else looked as clueless as she did, so at least she wasn't alone in her confusion. Then the entrance started opening again, and she only distantly heard Marcello's tumbler and her own wine glass shatter as they hit the marble floor. It _couldn't_ be. It just _couldn't_. Because Draco and Blaise had just glided inside like she'd seen them do a thousand times before, their heads lowered and nearly touching as they discussed something quietly between themselves, and they weren't transparent or covered in blood. There were no dripping wounds, no dire injuries, just them as they had always been. Well, almost.

Because when they looked up, she nearly came out of her skin in an entirely pleasant way. They had always practically _dripped_ seduction and sex appeal, it was something that the Slytherins had just had to get used to and try to ignore, but _now_…Now it was very, _very_ un-ignorable. She could almost _feel_ every oh-so-graceful movement they made as if they were touching her, could almost _feel_ the ecstasy they could cause without so much as laying a finger on her as their predatory eyes trailed over their stunned Housemates. The majority of them gasped, three fainted (which was unheard of except for Vincent's moment the other day), and the rest gaped wordlessly, caught between joy and instant, fierce desire.

And something else was different…Were there black _rings_ around their irises? Sweet gods, there _were_. Something clicked that she'd only barely noticed earlier, and she had to forcibly rip her eyes away to glance at Padma. Her eyes had the same dark rings, too; they were just less noticeable since her irises were almost solid black anyway but for the flecks of green. Her heart beating erratically, Lycelle turned her attention back to the impossibilities standing before them a moment before someone shot past her and barreled into the two returned Slytherins, knocking them both to the floor. All three were soon laughing, and Anton ran his hands over them frantically, as if fearing that they were a figment of his imagination.

"You're back! How are you back? Sweet gods, you're _here_! Really, _really_ here!" He exclaimed, his sculpted face the picture of delight.

She'd never seen him so genuinely thrilled before, except for after her sister had agreed to marry him, but this was different. Anton had never really bonded with any of the other Slytherin males, not even Gregory and Vincent. Melody and one of his cousins had been his closest friends before he'd met Draco and Blaise, and they'd clicked almost instantly. And Lycelle had heard, through whispers and low conversations among her older Housemates, that the three had been banned (by Severus) from each other's company during classes until after their forth year, because if they hadn't been getting into trouble, they were much too interested in each other's bodies.

They hadn't even been allowed to sit next to each other most of the time, but they'd still managed to cause complete chaos for many of their teachers. Gregory and Vincent had mostly followed Draco, but one or both had followed the other two around almost as much. Severus had finally relented sometime over the summer before their fifth year, and it was rumored among the Slytherins that the three of them had threatened to fuck in the hallways if he didn't get over it. But regardless of how it had happened, it had, and the three were rarely seen apart after that, and usually had Pansy, Melody and Daphne with them.

Thus had been born the tight six-some that had made up Slytherin's inner circle. They'd all had quite a bit of pull in the House from day one due to their names, and each of them were the firstborn heirs to those names but for Daphne, who had two older brothers. That hadn't changed until Virginia had come along, stealing into Slytherin on a misguided mission and somehow leaving with their princes' hearts. Many had been reluctant to accept her at first, but their respect for Draco and Blaise ran deep, and the girl had soon charmed them all whether they wanted to admit it or not. She was so obviously Slytherin to her very core that they couldn't help but like her.

Lycelle often wondered on that, too. It didn't seem very fair to her that Virginia, a Gryffindor for over five years, was a better Slytherin that she was, and she'd been one since she started Hogwarts. What kind of sense did that make? Not that it mattered. Virginia was there to stay, and none of the Slytherins thought of her as a Gryffindor anymore, and hadn't for a long time. Pansy had been the first to accept her into their circle, then Melody and Daphne, and finally Anton. Gregory and Vincent hadn't minded, but they were more like bodyguards than anything else in most people's opinions, even in most of their Housemates'.

"Oui, we're really here." Draco's voice brought her back to reality, and she saw that all three had gotten back to their feet. Anton embraced each of them again before spinning on Virginia and Padma.

"You two," he started slowly, his eyes narrowed into slits, "have quite a bit of explaining to do."

Both girls mockingly begged for forgiveness, earning each of them a potent glare, and the twins and Sirius were the next to move for Draco and Blaise, confirming that they were real and not a product of mass hallucination. Then, almost as if shaking off some petrifying spell, the rest of the House surged forward, surrounding them and firing off question after question. Something dawned on Lycelle as she started to join them, and she spun on her heel, running for the far right passageway. She nearly busted her arse sliding to a stop in front of a heavy black door, which she threw open without any preamble. Four faces turned to her, drawn and weary and questioning.

"They're alive!" She burst out, grabbing Narcissa and Silana's arms and dragging them to their feet. "Come on, didn't you hear me? Draco and Blaise are _alive_!"

"No, they're not, sweetie." Narcissa said gently, tears springing to her husky-like eyes. Both women looked as if she'd slapped them instead of delivering wonderful news, and she groaned before pulling them out of the door.

"Just come look, alright? _Please_?"

"Oui." They agreed emotionlessly, dead blue eyes not really seeing anything. She pushed through her Housemates, her hands still clutching their arms, and they parted immediately when they saw who she was bringing forward. Both women kept their eyes lowered and their heads bowed, and she knew it was because they were both close to breaking down again. The last ring of Slytherins moved back, and she was standing before their sons, who each had a twin on one arm, Virginia in between them. They had been talking to Sirius and Mira, but stopped when they saw who was with her.

"Mum?" They both asked, and the women's heads snapped up, their eyes filling with disbelief. They met their sons' steady gazes and swooned, nearly falling had the two not moved forward instantly and caught them.

"B-Baby?" Narcissa questioned, her voice breaking as she lifted one slender hand to Draco's porcelain cheek. "B-But you were…you were _dead_."

"No, no, we weren't." Draco assured her. "Just trapped. We're fine now, mère, I promise." ((mother))

"You can't do this again!" Silana said wretchedly, her hands twisted in her son's hair and her face buried in his shoulder. "We can't survive mourning you both a forth time." Blaise's arms tightened around her, while Lycelle silently wondered, '_Forth__? When did they mourn them but for that first time and now? Maybe she meant 'a third time' and said it wrong?' _But that was highly doubtful. Their mothers drew themselves together remarkably quickly, and Draco and Blaise's eyes sought out another through the crowd. Going to her side, they knelt in front of her and put their silky heads on her thighs.

"How do you feel, darling?" Blaise asked quietly, and Pansy smiled, tears running freely and unashamedly down her cheeks as her finger started moving over the back of his hand, tracing out her response. He seemed satisfied when she was done, and Virginia and Padma each slid onto the couch on either side of her, their heads coming to rest on her shoulders.

Everyone stayed in the common room for almost two hours after that, asking a million questions and generally freaking out over their unbelievable return. Which, for the Slytherins, meant that they were getting wasted, and _that_ had it turning into a full-blown celebration. Even Pansy joined in, letting Anton make her a glass of her beloved Nirvana cocoa. Apparently, their supply of the intoxicant hadn't been depleted on Yule, and they all deemed it a special enough occasion to partake. Severus had thrown back two glasses after hugging both of his godsons fiercely, and Narcissa and Silana were laughing and dancing with everyone else, their happiness knowing no bounds.

Lycelle had managed to sneak a few hits off of one of the many cigarillos being passed around, and she knew now why they all enjoyed the substance so much. She could feel the earth singing under her feet, could feel her spirit soaring and her heart beating in time with the drums that had been brought out. The music was fast-paced and primal, and she loved every second of it, unable to keep from joining the others on the impromptu dance floor in the center of the room. She spun, her arms swaying above her head and her feet pounding the floor, and she felt like a part of them for the first time ever as she went from partner to partner in a blur.

Then there were arms snaking around her waist and drawing her close to a lean, masculine body, and one look at the bronze hands on her waist let her know who danced with her as if they were a part of her. They were mashed together most appealingly, and her skin jumped every time he moved his fingers. Heat was coiling in her center and spreading throughout her limbs in blistering waves, and she moaned when their hips ground together. Her hair was lifted off her neck, damp with sweat, and lips trailed along the smooth skin there, followed by a sharp nip soon soothed by a warm tongue. Turning, every sense aflame, her lips met Marcello's and the rest of the world faded away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Virginia was sure that she was about to lose control completely and ravish her lovers right there in the common room. The bastards kept sending teasing tendrils of desire to her through the Marks, and she wondered if anyone noticed her flushed cheeks and heavy breathing in the low, flickering candlelight. It's not as if it mattered, though. People were spread all throughout the room in various stages of fucking. Slytherins were anything but shy. Stretching and finishing off her glass of sherry, she and Blaise watched amusedly as Draco was pulled onto the dance floor by Anton, his metallic hair streaming out behind him as he moved.

Blaise's hand on her lower back was like a live shot of electricity going straight to her core, and she wriggled a bit, barely biting back a frustrated groan. He smiled down at her as if he knew exactly what was going through her head, and those fingers moved down the tiniest bit tauntingly. Her control wearing away ever farther, she tried to distract herself so as not to make a scene by slamming him into the wall and screwing him silly. Her eyes traveling over the room, she nearly didn't see Sirius in the corner for the curtain of silvery blond hair surrounding him. Said hair was attached to a willowy figure that was straddling him and devouring his mouth.

"Check out Sirius." She said, nudging Blaise with one elbow. His eyes moved lazily from Draco and Anton's writhing forms to Sirius, and he smirked in an utterly male way.

"At least it's not that mudblood bitch."

"How charming, love." She replied, rolling her eyes.

"I have no need to be charming regarding anyone but you this night." He murmured next to her ear, and tingling sparks ran down her spine, pooling in her groin. "I think it's time we snatch our silver prince back and leave them to their fun while we make our own, oui?"

"I—" She opened her mouth to agree heartily, when Mira stumbled over from somewhere, grabbing one of the liquor bottles and filling herself a goblet full before draining it.

"Did you _see_ Lycelle?" She asked, tucking a lock of pale hair behind one ear and taking the cigarillo Sebastian offered her from where he was seated beside Blaise. "She was _dancing_. About time that fille loosened up." ((girl))

"Lycelle? Dancing?" Sebastian questioned incredulously. "Surely you jest."

"Non." Mira laughed, falling down beside him gracefully. "It was her. The last I saw she was making out with Marcello." Sebastian nearly spit his wine all over the floor, while Blaise started snickering. Pansy, who was sitting beside Virginia, nearly choked on her own drink, and Virginia simply stared.

"Shut up!" Sebastian finally choked out, his eyes wide. "No way he finally got with her! He's been wanting to all year. Says she's mysterious or some such, 'cause she's always so quiet."

"Well, she wasn't being quiet a moment ago." Mira said with a sharp grin, before it was suddenly replaced by a look of complete horror. They followed her line of sight, and it was Virginia's turn to snicker when Blaise's mouth dropped open the slightest bit, his nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Is that my _aunt_?" He demanded, and when Sirius shifted again and that silvery hair fell back, they saw that it was _indeed_ Armynel sprawled across his lap.

"Oh. My. Sweet. Fucking. Merlin." Mira's eyes were the size of saucers, and she rose quickly, scrubbing at them with her palms. "Have to go now. Must find Vincent and Gregory and pretend this never happened. Later, cousin." She said to Blaise before bolting in the opposite direction of her mother.

"You know," Virginia commented idly a minute or two later, "the most _interesting_ developments occur when we take this shit." She said, waving the Nirvana cigarillo in her hand around for emphasis. "It's like…"

Her words died off as Draco came into view, walking towards them with Anton at his side. His hair was loose and swaying around him, his eyes were luminous and bordering on jubilant, and he'd stripped off his robes in favor of a tight, sleeveless silver shirt and black dragonhide pants. Anton wore much the same, she noted absently, his dark hair falling free around his face, getting in his eyes as usual. She could feel Blaise and Pansy stiffen ever-so-slightly on either side of her, and grinned, knowing that she was just as tense and ready to spring as they were. But the fire in Pansy's gaze dampened almost immediately, and she turned away.

"Pansy?" She leaned in and whispered when they were still a good twenty feet away, and Pansy looked up at her, something dark and disturbing in her eyes. Virginia held out her palm in a wordless inquiry, and Pansy hesitated only a moment before answering her the only way that she could, her fingertip racing across Virginia's skin. Glad that she had made her boyfriends teach her this trick, she placed the letters and words together easily.

'_He deserves someone _whole_, Virginia. I can't even _kiss_ him, for the love of Circe.'_

Accentuation was given by her pressing harder as she wrote out what she wished to say, and the words made Virginia's heart ache for her friend. Pansy hadn't complained so much as once about her situation; she actually considered herself quite lucky, since she hadn't expected to survive. She knew that her sacrifice had been worth it, and she took pride in the fact that she had made sure no words would be wrenched from her unwillingly. She had proved her strength and her loyalty, but she had lost much as well. Most didn't consider how much a simple kiss could mean, or the taste of cocoa, which she was drinking even though she couldn't enjoy the flavor.

And then Virginia had an idea.

"I don't feel so great." She said suddenly, and her boyfriends' eyes zeroed in on her. Draco and Anton had reached them a moment before, and both crouched down in front of her.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, reaching to her through the Marks, but she closed them off for the moment.

"I just don't feel very good. Do you think we could turn in early?"

"Of course." Blaise replied, rising and offering her a hand up.

She took it and rose along with Draco, while Anton kissed her cheek and wished her well before taking her spot next to Pansy, talking to her in a low voice and running his fingers over one slightly scarred cheek lovingly. Pansy smiled but it was forced, and he noticed immediately. The need to see if her plan would work overwhelmed her, and she told everyone goodnight before leading her boyfriends to their room. She fell backwards on the mound of pillows and silk as soon as they reached the bed, and her lovers crawled up beside her, their eyes clouded from worry and Nirvana. Her plan would work, but first things first…

"Fuck me."

"Well, that's a change." Draco murmured, arching one pale eyebrow. "I thought you felt like shit?"

"Are you complaining?" She asked, playing with a trailing lock of his hair. "I could always do it myself, I suppose."

Feral grins were her only answer before Draco's icy lips captured hers and Blaise's kissed a tingling trail down her throat. She responded immediately, her soul soaring and her heart beginning to beat madly. By touch alone, she reached for the end of Blaise's braid, undoing it with greedy fingers until that dark, shifting silk was falling all around them and twining with silver and crimson. Sharp teeth nicked her tongue and she responded in kind as she felt her robe coming loose and her weapons being removed one by one. Blaise took his time freeing each blade, trailing the sharp tip of each over the tight leather of the cat suit that was molded to her.

The last around her waist finally disappeared, as did the harness they'd been sheathed in. Those electric fingers moved farther down, the laces of her boots undone in seconds, and she could barely think between his teasing touches and Draco's carnal kiss. Her boots fell unheeded to the floor along with the daggers inside them, and Blaise slid back up, his hands running along the insides of her thighs before settling on her hips. Draco's glorious mouth left hers only to be replaced by another, and she rose up on her elbows, devouring his lips readily. Draco slid in behind her and she leaned back against him as Blaise raised one sharp nail to her chest.

He sliced down the front of the black leather she was encased in and it split open easily, as did the first few layers of her skin underneath, which made her moan dissolutely. Draco peeled the leather back and off of her while Blaise's tongue traveled back up the cut he had made, and she wondered if one could have an orgasm just by simple touches and steamy looks, because they made it seem all too possible. Her entire body was on fire with sheer _need_, and she was sure that she would die if she didn't get _more_ of them. Quickly. Rising until she was on her knees, her back still pressed against Draco's firm chest, she pushed Blaise back.

Something in her eyes silenced any questions he might have asked, and she pushed him again until his back hit one of the heavy bedposts. He watched her through wavy locks of raven hair from where he was kneeling against it, and she moved away from Draco the slightest bit in order to capture his bruised lips once more. Her hand rose to his chest, her nails digging in hard enough to make him gasp, and she deepened the kiss even farther, their blood mingling between them like ambrosia. He tasted of lemons and heaven, and her lips were more than reluctant to leave his when she finally pulled away.

Blaise hands were wrapped tightly around the bedpost behind him, and she had a positively delightful idea. Moving in and kissing him again, she laid her hands over his and bound him with fiery restraints before he even knew what she was doing. Midnight blue eyes widened in surprise before becoming hooded, a lascivious light filling them and making her tremble. Turning away from him, her mouth met Draco's as he slid the cat suit the rest of the way off of her, revealing her piece by piece to Blaise's licentious gaze. She could practically _feel_ his eyes on her as if he were reaching out and touching her, and the last bit of leather was tossed away unceremoniously.

Then Draco's chilled hands were on her breasts and she was moaning throatily, before his mouth left hers and keen teeth were sliding into the soft skin of her neck. She screamed as unmitigated pleasure swamped her from head to toe and arched back against him, feeling his hardness pressing against her through his pants. She ground against him and his teeth left her flesh as he groaned, their mouths meeting again. The fingers of one hand pinched her nipple, while the other wound its way down her stomach, making the desire fogging her senses almost unbearable. Then ghostly lips closed on her other nipple, and her eyes snapped open, meeting stunning indigo ones.

She had been surprised the first time they had used those phantom caresses, but they had never been so strong before, and the new black rings around his eyes were becoming even darker somehow. They almost appeared to be swirling, but she didn't have enough sentience left to deduce if it was Hades and Lucifer's blood that was causing it. Her world had narrowed down completely to Draco's body smashed against hers, to his hands that were bringing her closer and closer to falling apart completely, and to those eyes that stared straight into her soul. Then Draco's wandering fingers finally went where she so desperately wanted them to be, the first sliding inside her.

She screamed again before biting her bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed anew, and she knew she wouldn't be able to take much more of this maddening foreplay. A thought incinerated Draco's shirt and pants, and his frosty skin came into contact with her own, which felt as if it would soon start boiling. He hissed in pleasure and another finger joined the first, the nails of his other hand digging into her hip hard enough to bruise. Her eyes still locked on Blaise's, the wicked light dancing within them almost undoing her then and there, she fell forward onto her hands, her mouth inches from his erection. Smiling devilishly, she looked back at Draco over her shoulder.

All it took was a debauched look and a pink tongue darting over bloody lips for him to growl and move his other hand to her hip as well, pulling her back against him and entering her in one forceful thrust. That was it, and any coherent thought that she might have had abandoned her totally as one wanton scream after another was ripped from her, her warm breath tickling over Blaise's cock and driving him utterly insane. Her hand wound around his length almost unconsciously, her grip tight enough to make him gasp and pant, and she decided that he'd had quite enough teasing to merit it sufficient payback for earlier.

Her lips wrapped around him a moment later, hot and silky and slick with blood, and his strangled moan melded with Draco's perfectly. Then deliciously cold fingers were running ever-so-lightly over her clit in time with his thrusts, and her scream was muffled that time, vibrating around Blaise's length and making _him_ scream. His head was thrown back, his long, ebony hair shifting around him as if it were alive, and claws were impaled in the thick wood behind him as if it were nothing more than one of the pillows. She continued her task fervently, loving the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and thanked the gods that it came so naturally.

If she'd had to think about what she was doing, she would have been worthless, seeing as how Draco's skilled fingers and wild fucking had reduced her mind to smoking ashes. The white-hot heat that was coursing through her every vein grew even more intense, the knot in her stomach beginning to uncoil, and she knew she was close, so very, very close. The Marks opened wide between the three of them, and their ecstasy coupled with her own made the world explode. Her vision blacked out, her body shook uncontrollably, and her throat was hoarse from screaming. She distantly wondered if you could die from such exquisite rapture.

"Don't let it go." She managed to choke out through her spinning senses, referring to the magickal overflow that they raised every time they did this. They usually released the excess energy into the earth or the stones around them, but she had other uses for it that night. _Early morning_, she corrected herself, feeling the sun nearing the horizon.

"Why?" They asked as they all fell lethargically onto the silk sheets, Blaise's bonds falling away when the ring on his hand flashed. They were glowing brightly, dark light escaping their skin and casting shifting shadows on the bed curtains around them. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to rise.

"We need it, if you'll help me." She said simply, knowing that it was the longest sentence she would be able to manage in her blissful, dazed state.

They both looked as sated as she did, smirking like the Cheshire cat, but they rose with her all the same, nodding their acceptance of whatever she wanted. They only took the time to throw on loose green night robes before very nearly floating out of the room. They rarely held on to the magick that sex raised, since it kept their senses completely befuddled, and with the Nirvana still racing through them, it was quite an experience just to get down the hallway and to the common room without any major incidents, such as falling over and snickering like lunatics or ripping each other's robes off and starting all over again.

The music in the common room came to an abrupt halt when they entered, but she didn't have time to worry over what they must have looked like, glowing like small black suns. Her eyes sought out the one whom she was searching for, and she led the way to her, one of her boyfriends' hands in each of her own. Her feet barely touched the floor, and she felt celestial and invincible, primordial and powerful. Pushing a long ringlet out of her eyes irritably, she fell to her knees at Pansy's feet and looked up at the girl who'd been her best friend for months. Untangling her fingers from her lovers', she held her hands out, palms up.

"Will you let us help you?" She asked the dark-haired girl, and her voice sounded different to her ears, lower and velvety thick.

Pansy's head tilted to the side, and she raised her own hands slowly, placing them in Virginia's. Her eyes grew huge and her lips parted as the magick rushed into her, and Draco and Blaise each laid one hand on Virginia's shoulder and one on hers, pouring energy into both. Their silent twisting of the magick guided it and bent it to their will, and they were strong and sure in their commands. What should have taken a long, dangerous trip to Reverie to accomplish didn't, and they wound their spells in and out of their friend, covering her in a thick blanket of comfort and power and devotion. Gradually, the effects of their efforts became visible.

The zigzagging white lines marring her hands were the first to vanish bit by bit, then the curving scars traveling the lengths of both arms. The raw, red wounds that were barely closed over along her chest, back and abdomen disappeared next, and Virginia could feel them healing and leaving no trace even though she couldn't see the process. She felt their magick trail down throughout Pansy's whole body, felt it washing over her legs and returning withered, abused muscles to their former strength and more. Then came the hard part. Focusing her mind to one purpose, she felt her boyfriends do the same and the serious healing began.

Lingering traces of poison and potions were still in her system, and their energy overpowered the remnants easily. Fixing the internal damage that they'd caused was a different story. Her organs were depleted, the scar tissue on them thick and tough, and long minutes were spent correcting the deterioration and setting everything to rights again. Well, almost everything. She was as good as new but for one disfigurement, and attempting to heal that was their biggest problem. Tongues were the hardest muscle in the body to regrow, and the process would be agonizing for her. But it would also be more than worth it.

At their most cajoling, they coaxed the ruined cells and dead nerve endings to respond and wake up, charmed them into going into overdrive with promising spurts of power. They obeyed hesitantly at first, lazy and unwilling to work, but more dark energy had them beginning the growth, and that was all that she and her lovers needed to take over and mold the healing to do what they needed it to. Muscle stretched and reformed ever-so-slowly, filling out inch by inch until they felt the last of their gathered magick trickling away into it. They let go of Pansy simultaneously, falling back and breathing hard, and she felt arms wrap around her, stopping her from hitting the ground.

She looked up blearily to meet Padma's gentle, knowing eyes, and strengthening energy rushed back into her, serene and peaceful like its owner. She saw the twins supporting her lovers in much the same way, and they all turned their attention back to Pansy, as if to make sure that they hadn't imagined the entire engagement. She was the one glowing darkly then, their magick filling her to the brim, and she was staring at her hands and arms, her eyes filled with wonder. Then she ran them over her torso, the absence of telltale ridges and bumps making her eyes light up, and that was when she seemed to realize what else had been done.

Her fingers flew to her lips, and she opened them minutely before closing them again. She looked at each of them in turn, her eyes brimming with joyful tears, and she opened her mouth once more to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. They did glimpse her returned tongue though, and Virginia started when she saw it. It was not the typical pink, fleshy color, but almost platinum. Pansy was truly silver-tongued now. How…appropriate. Anton was looking at her with concern, obviously thinking that she was upset due to her tears, but she turned ecstatic eyes on him and he froze, lost in whatever he saw in their dark depths.

And then she kissed him.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

(sniffles) Anyway…PLEASE REVIEW!!!!


	29. The Endtimes Pt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, awesome review as always, my adored review goddess!** Cloaked**, just got your review, so I reposted to tell you that I worship you! **Catalina Royce**, thanks, and have fun at the coast!** madcow**, I'm glad you liked it! thanks!** otaku sae**, you'll see! it'll be explained later, lol! **me**, thanks! and comps can be bastards, sometimes, lol. **slytheringrl17**, thanks! **Ludra**, that was an awesome review! thanks so much! **mosleyn001**, I'm really glad that you've enjoyed it so far! thank you! **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, hope this is soon enough, lol! **zhizhi192**, umm, it's usually every four to five days, sometimes sooner. :) **sexyjunkie**, thank you, thank you, thank you! **harry-fanfic-reader**, glad you liked! thanks! **Cleopatra213**, hope this was quick enough! **Sphinxtress**, glad you liked the tongue! thanks for reviewing! **power**** of the stars**, lol. I take it that was good? **bigreader**, it's okay. I sound weird sometimes, too, lol. **Erin**, THANK YOU! **Tom4ever**, thanks, I will! **Psi**, thank you! **Fallen**, continuing! :) **quimbytimmons**, yes, I am pagan. :) **CrackingUp**, THANKS! **kia**, no, it's not metal, lol. **short**** arse**, thank you so much, as usual! **a:****sam**, thanks!! glad you liked it, and behold the war! **Tytianne**, yeah, I like Pansy, too. :) **Wicked Not Evil**, thank you!! glad you liked that scene! **aoi-yuki-yume**, I lovelovelove you, too!! **Georgentosser**, oh sweet review queen, how can I express my thanks? I hope this chapter will suffice! :) **el**** chikita joules**, hope you like this one, and thanks! **Cougar**, thanks you _so_ much! I was blushing like a fool by the end of your review! sillysun, I just adore you. you and your reviews. (kisses!)

Alright, now that that's done, here we go!

**…………………………………………………………………………………………………**

"En Garde."

That was all the warning Blaise ever gave an opponent, if they were lucky enough to merit one at all, and metal hit metal seconds later. Anton smirked and Blaise returned it, and their fight continued, every movement precise and normally lethal. But this wasn't a normal fight, just practice, and they fought with the flowing ease of those who had dueled each other for years. Both had practically been born with a sword in hand, as had most purebloods that still followed the true path. They had started fencing with rapiers first, and the moves and their names ran through his head still, ingrained for so long that it was completely unconscious.

'_Advance. Glise'. Balestra. Spin._'

It had been two months. Sixty-one days since Draco and Blaise had come back and they had taken every Slytherin over sixteen to the Manor that had wished to come, and many of the younger students as well, mostly those whose parents wished them somewhere safe, or that didn't care at all if they weren't their firstborn heirs. The Slytherins' abandoning of the school had caused more than a little turmoil, and not just at Hogwarts. Rumors had been running rampantly throughout the wizarding world, and even more were now considering how many witches and wizards had recently 'been abducted' or had 'disappeared'.

'_Attack au Fer. Disengage. Plaque'. Quinte._'

More like been recruited. The grounds of the Manor and Tenebre Stella were now fully functional army camps. The reach of the Malfoy and Zabini bloodlines was huge, spanning the globe, and those that owed their families fealty had been summoned, vast numbers trickling in through unauthorized portkeys and the help of the gods. The latter had scared and awed so many so badly that they hadn't uttered so much as a peep of protest when ordered to take Veritaserum. Those found of being traitors bearing the Dark Mark were publicly tried and executed without question or remorse. This was war, and they were taking no chances.

'_Parry. In Quartata. Octave. Retreat._'

Two hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand able-bodied witches and wizards readying themselves for war, half at the Manor, half at Stella. Many were pureblooded, many were not. It was war. The quality of the blood didn't count when so many bodies lay upon the earth that the ground is nothing but a thick red lake for as far as you can see. He had seen the viewing crystals of the old battles; he had seen what to expect in vivid detail. So they had been calling in those in their service, as well as clinging to shadows in dark streets and enlisting people with hushed whispers and promises of protection for them and their families should they win.

'_Passe__' Avant. Coupe'. Advance. Croise._'

Everyone knew what the alternatives were. It was war. In their world, there were no neutral countries, no indifferent safe-havens. There were only three choices. Fight for Voldemort and become a slave even if you won; fight for the Ministry and take your chances in their practically non-existent forces; or fight for the four Elementals that were their only real chance at any sort of tolerable survival. It was actually surprising how many people had clued into that knowledge so fast, amazing how they understood more than he'd hoped for. The Ministry was useless, they'd been telling everyone that for ages, but only recently had the general populace started to truly realize it.

'_Fleche. Passe'. Remise. Retreat._'

They had not been prepared. The Ministry had stayed blind for too long, and their denial had cost them much. The last two months had been littered with battles between the Light armies and Voldemort's own. It had not been pretty for them at all, and few were swearing themselves to their service after seeing how badly they were organized. The dark purebloods, however, had been preparing for war for years, ever since Voldemort's return. Some to support him, others to oppose him. Every one of the latter had rallied under the banners of the Malfoys and Zabinis once word had reached them, and many others had changed their tune and come as well.

'_Feint. Double. Finta in tempo. Quarte._'

Many thought it a blessing that Voldemort had offended them badly enough for them to throw their weight into the war. They knew they stood no chance otherwise, especially with their precious Harry Potter having run off a week after the fighting started. No one knew where he had gone, but the Slytherins had a good idea. They knew about the effect cursed scars could have on an untrained mind, and minds didn't come much more untrained than his. So he was one of two places. He was either completely mad, hiding in the woods somewhere, or he'd gone to the Dark Lord. Or, more technically, the Dark _Hall_.

'_Parry. Riposte. Lunge. Flick._'

Because Voldemort had only just been fully healed, as Cocidius had assured His Chosen. Over a month and a half of healing was almost unheard of in their world, because you usually either took to the treatments and got better quickly, or you died. Simple. But Virginia had fucked him up badly, and only Dagda's intervention had saved his life. Her cunning in poisoning him had earned her a great deal of admiration, and Padma had gotten her fair share as well for her rescue of Draco and Blaise. But Dagda had been giving orders through Voldemort's most loyal supporters, so the fighting had begun even though he had been incapacitated.

'_Septime__. Thrust. Trompement. Corps-a-corps._'

They attacked at dusk the next day. His father had sent the owl informing them of the enemy's plans three days before, and they'd been preparing ever since. Their Death Eater spies would desert Voldemort and his army right before the battle and join them, and they would surround his army from all sides. He was attacking the largest base left to the Light side just as the sun started sinking, and it was the first time that he would have the majority of his forces in one place at one time, which is what they'd been waiting for. They were ready and they were strong. Their numbers would be pretty evenly matched, as would the central powers according to the prophecy that Anton and Pansy had been entrusted to hear.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed as he hit the ground hard, Blaise having taken out his legs. He found himself looking up a long black blade that was at his throat, and he groaned when he saw Blaise's amused expression.

"You were not paying attention." Blaise said mockingly in his musical voice. "In fact, you have barely been paying attention the entire time. What burdens your mind so? Do you not feel the growing battle lust like the others?" He asked, sheathing his blade and holding out his hand. Anton took it and sprung to his feet, his own sword sliding home across his back.

"Just thinking. And yes, I do. We shall have a bloody moon this next night." He said, his eyes lifting to the star-speckled sky briefly before returning to his friend.

"Bloody moon, indeed." Blaise agreed, smiling and flashing sharp fangs. "So you had better go love your lady like never before, hmm?"

"It's like you read my thoughts." Anton teased, shoving his shoulder as he walked past him to the bench at the edge of the clearing that had their shirts and robes draped over it. "It _is_ quite gratifying to see their eyes un-focus as intelligent thought leaves them completely, isn't it?"

"Very much so." Blaise commented, vanishing his sword and joining Anton by the bench. "Almost as much as the pleading moans and decadent screams."

"You know what else is amusing?" A familiar feminine voice questioned from behind them, and both spun around to see their girlfriends, each of which had a pair of black sais in their hands. The long, slender, dagger-like weapons could be used in hand-to-hand combat or thrown with deadly efficiency, and they were both lucky enough to have girlfriends who were quite skilled with them. Fabulous.

"The looks on your faces right now." Pansy finished for Virginia smoothly, her eyes burrowing into him accusingly. Blaise wasn't receiving much better, and Virginia was twirling one sai absently.

"Blaise." He inquired under his breath while the girls were still a good ways off from them. "Do you think you could catch one of those?"

"I know I can."

"Right. But I meant if _Virginia_ throws it."

Silence. Then, "Perhaps."

"_Perhaps_? What the fuck do you mean 'perhaps'?" Anton hissed, and Blaise blew a stray lock of obsidian hair out of his eyes before answering.

"Well, depending how irked she is, it might be better to just shield rather than take any chances. We taught her to fight with those, and I know for a fact how well she wields them."

"Yes, and you're about to get a nasty reminder, Blaise Zabini." Virginia said, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her pretty face. "Pleading moans, hmm? How nice it is to know what you discuss when we're not with you."

"They probably didn't think we would have the _intelligence_ to understand." Pansy replied before either male could say a word.

They were saved from having to respond at all when a chilling coldness swept into the clearing, followed shortly by one of the Dementors. It came straight to Blaise and bowed before beckoning him closer. Blaise obliged, hopped up on the bench, and leaned in so that the creature wouldn't have to stoop over awkwardly. Putting his face much closer to its own than any sane person would do, there was nothing but silence for several long minutes. No one really knew how Blaise and Draco communicated with the things, but it was obvious that they did somehow. He'd never been curious enough to ask. Who would want to talk to a Dementor anyway if you had to get that close? Not everyone had their control over them.

"I have to go." Blaise said suddenly, and the Dementor glided off a bit, waiting at the path that led back to the Manor. He leapt easily off the bench and onto the snow. "Duty calls. And Lycelle was looking for you, Pansy. She needs your help with spelling some of the arrows."

"Alright." Pansy said, sheathing her sais and sending Anton one last glare to which he blew her a kiss. She rolled her eyes before joining Blaise, who kissed his girlfriend's cheek and avoided her slap nimbly. Then he and Pansy were disappearing into the trees with the Dementor, and Virginia turned to him.

"Males are such bastards." She commented idly, and he smirked. "You want to come with me to go see Draco? That's what we were coming to get you for anyway."

"Sure." He said, throwing his robe on as he started to really feel the chilly air against his bare skin. She took his hand and they started off down a different path, winding their way towards the mountain and the dragon reserve. They went the long way as to avoid all of the witches and wizards scattered all over the place, but they could still hear steel hitting steel and distant shouts.

"You leave for Stella this coming day at noon, don't you?" Virginia asked, and Anton nodded.

"Yes. I'll have everyone ready to leave at sunset." He said, since he was leading the troops at Stella into battle, while Pansy would be heading those from the Manor. Their key fighters would be coming shortly afterwards.

"And do you like your new status as a general?" She teased, knowing full and well his opinions on it.

"Hmm, let's see. Power, strength, respect and fear. Yes, I believe I do."

"Figures." She mumbled, and then paused. "Darkness grows in my mind." She said after a few moments of silence, and he looked over at her, slightly startled. "But I do not know if it is the void's darkness or the tainted dark. I know only that one will defeat the other for good this next night. This will not be a drawn-out war, not this time. I just wish we knew who the other Dark Lords are."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" Anton asked with a roguish grin, trying to lighten her mood. She smiled briefly, but he could still see the worry in her eyes. "Look, Virginia, think of it like this. Even if we lose, we'll all see each other in the afterlife, now won't we?"

"That's just it, Anton." She said, stopping and looking up at him, her charcoal eyes and their recently acquired black rings seeming to suck up the starlight.

She'd gone to see Lucifer and Hades a week after they'd arrived at the Manor, and had come back with darker eyes and fists full of hellfire, a gift from the High Kings. Hellfire could eat through the toughest stone and melt any metal instantly. There was no defense against it, unless you had a silver ring on your finger bearing the runes of all four elements, another gift courtesy of the Morningstar. Only eight of the rings existed, and He'd given them the other four to give to those they trusted most. The twins had each received one, as had Pansy and Anton, and they were irremovable. They were also incredible power boosters.

"What's it?"

"The Dark Royals fear that Dagda may have found a way to kill a god." She whispered, and he felt like he'd been punched in the chest.

"How?" He asked raggedly, the night seeming a lot darker all of a sudden.

"They don't know. They can just…_feel_ that something major has shifted. So they attack at dusk with us. Many of the Light Royals have joined with them. There will be two battles; one on the earth and one in the sky."

"If Cocidius dies…" Anton couldn't even finish the sentence, as just thinking of it brought actual, physical pain.

"Then we die with Him." Virginia finished for him, and he felt resentment and fury settle throughout his body, making everything sparklingly clear. "And if Dagda truly has some weapon that can slay gods, and if Cocidius…" Her voice broke and she sucked in a deep, shaking breath before continuing, "And if He dies, the Dark Royals will want vengeance unlike any ever known before. The world will be destroyed if they unleash all of their power, and if they die, the Underworld dies with them. There will _be_ no afterlife if we fail."

"Then we won't fail." He said after another few minutes of silence, and her eyes turned furious.

"Exactly." She hissed, her hand tightening around his own. "We will fight twice as hard, for we do not just fight for our lives now, but for our very souls. And I will not see everyone I love lost to eternal oblivion."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"They're here! Raise the alarm!" Dean Thomas shouted from his lookout, and he heard the scurrying beneath him that signaled that the others had heard him.

Looking out across the endless field before him, he knew that they were all in a lot of trouble when the numbers of the army moving toward them kept growing and growing. They already stretched farther than the eye could see, the setting rays of the sun glinting off of their red armor like the blood that was about to spill. He wondered, as he scrambled down the tower's ladder, how it had come to this. What was left of the Ministry's army was stationed here, and they only numbered ten thousand at max. _We're all going to die_, he thought morosely. He hit the ground and started running for where everyone was assembling to make a last stand, his heart filled with dread.

Within seven minutes, everyone was in the field, and all looked lost and hopeless as they watched the dark wall moving towards them. There was a brilliant flash of green, and an enormous Dark Mark appeared in the sky, the gaping jaws and slithering serpent casting eerie shadows, a herald of their doom. His heart was pounding madly as he watched their archers ready what was left of their arrows, and they flew through the air seconds later when their commander's arm dropped. Shields deflected the volley before sending them back on the casters, and they threw up their own shields, though more than a few were too slow, too sluggish with fear.

Still the army before them advanced, blocking curses and arrows alike, and the sheer number of them was enough to make his belly fill with ice. It was like something out of a movie, or more realistically, a nightmare. He had not wanted to die like this. There was no honor in being so terrified that you let yourselves be slaughtered. And he might have been raised as a muggle, but the last seven years among wizards had taught him the meaning of honor and pride, and he didn't want to fucking die like this. Everywhere he looked he saw drawn faces and resigned, defeated eyes. Shields were thrown up with half of their usual vigor, and their curses were weak.

It was like most of them already considered themselves done for and were simply waiting for the inevitable. It didn't help that Dumbledore had been called away earlier that day for something urgent, so there was no one they looked up to enough to give them hope. Not that there was any to be seen in the first place. He doubted that even Dumbledore could lighten the hearts of these witches and wizards, or his own, for that matter. When he had pictured war before, it had been nothing like the last two months of one loss right after another. It had not been watching people he knew die one by one; it had not been so tedious and overwhelming and heartbreaking.

The front lines finally met each other, an explosion of sound beginning immediately as blade met blade and curses slammed into armor. Everything became completely hectic in the blink of an eye, and he found himself face to face with a blank white mask. Not thinking, his mind as numb as his heart, the Killing Curse spilled from his lips with long practice. That was another thing that he hadn't expected, but the generals said that it was necessary, and he supposed that it was. It didn't stop every death he caused from weighing on his spirit like a ton of heavy, crushing stones, however. The Death Eater fell and another two replaced it.

For what felt like years, he cursed and punched and kicked every hooded figure in sight, a desperate ache to live filling his limbs and soul unlike any he had ever felt before. One Light mage fell every few seconds, and all he could see were their bodies littering the ground, the foul horde that was attacking them trampling them into the muddy snow. A roar came from his right and he nearly screamed when he saw that Voldemort had brought giants with him, a whole clan from what it looked like. Vicious snarls were also getting closer, and he noticed the werewolves for the first time as well. _We're all going to die_. It was all he could think.

And then…Then he heard drums, deep and low and striking him to his very core. He thought, at first, that some new horror of Voldemort's was coming, since the enemy army suddenly stopped fighting and turned to the where the noise was coming from as if given a silent command. Despair eating at him cruelly, he closed his eyes for the barest moment. When he opened them again, they were completely surrounded. Banners of black, purple, green and silver flew from the ends of spears and staffs, from horses' saddles and the warriors' hair. Those to the north and west bore the silver swords of the Malfoys, and those to the south and east the black swords of the Zabinis.

Shocked stupid, it took him a long moment to realize that what he was seeing was real. Many had said they were dead, while many others had sworn that they were alive, but no one had known the truth of it. Seeing the thousands of riders and foot soldiers alike with them, Dean suddenly realized where most of the missing people had gone. Their numbers didn't equal the Dark Lord's, but he'd been gathering followers for a lot longer than two months. But there was still one nagging question: Which side were they here to fight for? Or did they fight for themselves, not on the side of good or evil but in some dark area all their own?

Two figures rode out, one from the northwest and one from the southeast, and he recognized the symbols of their Houses next to the others. Parkinson beside Malfoy; McGregor beside Zabini. Both lifted an arm, sword in hand, and the drums beat ever louder, like the pulse of the earth itself. Then those arms came down and both sections surged forward. Everyone around him seemed to snap out of their daze, and the Dark Lord's army ignored the Light witches and wizards, their full attention locked onto the true threat. The figure that he supposed was Anton threw out a hand as the army neared them, and there was a flash of silver on his hand.

A second later, a huge wall of darkfire slammed into the front lines, Death Eaters falling to ash in moments. A second blast came from the one he thought to be Pansy, and then the charging troops met those waiting for them. _Their_ spells were strong, as were their shields, and the first dents appeared in the sea of masked fighters. A curse whizzed past his head and he cursed himself for becoming so distracted. But they had a chance now, even if they were still vastly outnumbered, and he saw the people from his own group beginning to get their will back. Flinging hexes with more accuracy, he nearly got trampled by a rampaging giant.

"Come back and play, you bloody big oaf!" A voice threaded with laughter called, and he turned to see three of his old schoolmates chasing after the giant on horseback, spears and wands in hand and intent smiles on their faces.

Sebastian, Marcello and Melody all sped by him without a glance, and Melody threw her spear seconds later, embedding it in the back of the giant's knee. It bellowed and crashed to the ground, squashing quite a few people in the process, and they were swarming over it moments later, seeming to know exactly where to impale it in order to cause the most damage. Its eyes were the first to go, then three powerful strikes to the back of the neck and a particularly vicious one somewhere along its vertebrae. And before he even knew what he was doing, he was running to help. He'd probably have a better chance of survival sticking with them if they'd let him.

"How can I help?" He called out over the deafening noise all around him, watching with a bit of awe as Melody used a long lock of the thing's hair to swing around and shove her sword into its temple. The giant finally stopped trying to throw them off, but it wasn't fully dead either. Then she jumped off and landed in front of him, and the dark joy in her eyes was slightly scary. She must have seen the thoughts running across his face, for she answered them all as if she was inside his head.

"It's paralyzed. Temple shots do that to them. And I don't particularly care if you follow us around, as long as you don't get in the way, _Gryffindor_." The word was said in a way that showed exactly how little she trusted him, and somehow also conveyed the fact that she wouldn't think twice about killing him.

Wondering if all Slytherins were so deadly and strange, he was starting to think that maybe the others had had the right idea in staying as far away from them as possible all of these years. Sebastian and Marcello were soon on the ground next to them, and were already anxious to get moving again. They said nothing about him tagging along, but their venomous looks spoke volumes. Death Eaters fell before them, the fighting hard and nasty, and they used curses he'd never even heard of before. He assisted them as much as he could, taking out more than a few himself, when something dawned on him. Looking around, he voiced his question as threw yet another hex.

"Where are Malfoy and Zabini? I see their banners everywhere, but not them."

"It's none of your concern." Sebastian said curtly, spinning and skewering a witch that was sneaking up on him with a long blade in her hand. They broke through another group, Dean leaving his question alone for now, before they found themselves in a bit of a jam. Literally. A whole score of Death Eaters had been blocked in by a large pile of giant flesh, and Marcello's blasting charm to get through had alerted them all to their presence. The Slytherins didn't look too worried, but Dean was. There were too _many_, they needed to get back out and on more open ground, they needed—

"They come!" Melody's shout broke off his thoughts, and he and the others, even the Death Eaters, turned to where she was pointing, up and to the left.

A thunderous roar broke through the loud crashing of steel and spells just as they raised their heads, and a gigantic black dragon swooped overhead, bearing a rider that had unmistakable mercury hair. At least twenty more appeared over the tops of the trees in the distance, flying fast and hard for the battling armies. Each had a rider upon its back, but none of the beasts were as large as the one that Malfoy was on. The first lava-bright blast of fire streamed from it, lighting up the field and showing the other groups converging on them from every side. _Now_ the numbers were even, and he couldn't help but gawk for a moment.

Zabini was flying, literally _flying_, at the head of the largest group of Dementors he had ever seen. He hadn't even known there _were_ that many of the creatures. And Zabini had fucking wings, huge, black-feathered wings, and he wondered if shapeshifting could do that, or if it was something more. And from the other side, he could clearly make out Ginny's hair, as well as wings the same color of shocking scarlet to either side of her as she swooped down with a horde of what could only be vampires. To her right, a few hundred yards away, was Padma Patil, wings of her own the color of rosewood fanning the air behind her as she led a group of great cats and Nundu.

"Oh god." He mumbled to no one in particular, more flashes of molten fire blazing all around them as screams rent the air. This had definitely not been in his visions of war; these creatures of terror and old tales. He had seen a lot since finding out that he was a wizard, but this…This was like living a legend, a myth. And maybe he was. This battle would certainly be remembered for ages to come, no matter who won.

"Come on!" He heard Marcello shout, and he turned to see the other Death Eaters that had been around them all dead.

The Slytherins had gotten quite a few, but the giant tigers seemed to have done their fair share as well. Marcello and the other two Slytherins were approaching those tigers, and they would have died had they not held out amulets from underneath their armor. The cats became almost docile at once, and stayed perfectly still while the three Slytherins mounted them. Only then did he notice the harnesses that all of the cats were wearing, each of which wound up and around the Slytherins' bodies until they were securely fastened to the cats' backs, leaving their hands free. Then they were shooting past him, and his world flipped upside down.

The next thing he knew, he was on one of the cats behind Melody, the straps of the leather harness twining around him as well. Everything around them was a blur, and he was pretty sure that he was about to be sick. Great. Then they were slowing, and he felt the cat's powerful muscles bunch underneath them before it sprung, crashing down on two Death Eaters as if they were nothing more than exceptionally large mice. Blood sprayed up in a wide arch, splattering across his face and doing nothing to help his nausea, and the sword in Melody's hand came down quickly, taking off one's head while the cat gutted the other.

"Can you use this?" Melody called over her shoulder, motioning at a long, coiled whip at her waist.

He nodded once, pretty sure that he could do what he knew she wanted him to. He unclasped the whip and the cat started moving again at a gentle command from the blood-soaked girl in front of him, and the next Death Eater he saw found itself being drug behind them as they sped along, darting in and out of the others fighting all around them. Sebastian and Marcello were flanking them, obviously keeping an eye on Melody, and he wondered if the girl knew what they were doing. He decided that she probably did, since even he had seen how protective Slytherin males tended to be, and he almost guaranteed that she was used to it.

Hanging onto the whip's grip as tightly as he could, he could feel it rubbing his hands raw and knew that he would have to let go soon. But almost as if the whip knew what he was thinking, it unwound itself from the Death Eater's legs and he pulled it in. Melody was hacking at anyone that dared to come near them, and the cat itself was incredibly lethal, its teeth and claws ripping right through spelled armor. Reattaching the whip to her waist, he wasted no time in getting out his wand. Briefly wishing that he'd trained with the pureblooded Gryffindors and learned how to use a sword like some of the muggleborns had done, he concentrated and shot the Killing Curse again.

The sky suddenly lit up right in front of them, and Melody reined the cat in sharply as Zabini came into view, twenty feet in the air and encircled in a crackling, flashing ball of lightning. Melody smiled vivaciously and grabbed her amulet, saying something and tapping it with her wand before grabbing his hand. He nearly fell over as power unlike any he'd ever felt swarmed through him like a hive of rapid bees, and he was sure that his skin would split open from the intensity of it. The wind had picked up, whipping past them and howling like a multitude of lost souls, centered around the glowing figure of the dark-winged Slytherin.

"I…" He tried to say that the magic was too much, but he couldn't form the words. She understood, though, and looked at him knowingly.

"It's because you're not pure." She said, and he probably would have taken offence at any other time. "Now hold on and brace yourself."

He barely had time to register the warning and wrap his hands in the straps of the harness before Zabini appeared to explode. But it wasn't really _him_; it was the electricity racing around him. It blew out from him in all directions, completely obliterating everything in a hundred-yard radius. He only vaguely saw Zabini swooping away, not looking in the least bit exhausted after that burst of energy, and glanced around where they were. The energy had rushed over and around them, and he was guessing it had something to do with the amulet Melody had activated. It had been like being inside of an electrical storm, up close and personal.

The only other people in the immediate vicinity still standing where those who had the same glowing shields around them, and he wondered exactly what kind of monsters they'd been sharing a school with. He had never imagined a show of power like that one, hadn't imagined that such levels of magical energy could even exist. It was not a pleasant way to find out that they could. He didn't even have time to re-gather his sensibility before they were zooming off again, right back into the thick of it. His thoughts still spinning, his curses spilled from him with him barely even thinking about them, and he didn't notice their lessening effect until Melody hit him.

"Get your shit together or get off!" She yelled, and he snapped back to reality, sending her a sheepish look that she ignored after rolling her eyes, the lashes of which were sticky with drying blood.

The 'drying' part was soon remedied as another fell beneath her sword, and he lost track of time completely, the battle raging around him as he tried his damnedest to avoid dying while guarding the girl's back at the same time. He might have discovered a healthy dose of fear for Slytherins recently, but she had still helped him, no matter how rudely she had gone about it. And he couldn't help admiring her grace and efficiency, no matter how brutal. Kicking one grasping Death Eater in the face, he nearly dropped his wand when he saw Pansy Parkinson slice a wizard's head in half with one fell stroke.

He'd thought that Melody was soaked in gore; hell, he'd even thought that _he_ was, but he was proven wrong as he saw her fighting back to back with Anton McGregor, their eyes shining fiercely with a blood lust that he knew nothing of. Both looked as if they'd been skinned, the thick red fluid dripping off of them in streaming rivulets, and their mounts were nowhere to be seen. Sebastian and Marcello were at their sides in seconds, and they traded off wordlessly, as if they were so in tune with one another that they had no need for more than a shared look. Pansy and Anton leapt onto the cats' backs, and took off once they'd cleared a path, leaving complete mayhem in their wake.

Startled at the quick exchange, he nearly missed a werewolf creeping up behind them. The cat didn't miss it though, and it spun in a whirlwind of sharp claws and furious swipes. As it was spinning, a Death Eater grabbed his robes and pulled, slashing out with a blade and cutting through the harness. He fell back hard, barely seeing Melody go down as well, and he was rolling to the side a second before that sword came down where his head had just been. Then a dagger had planted itself it the Death Eater's mask, and it fell backwards almost comically slow. There was no time to thank the girl for shaving his life.

They got separated quickly, the tide of fighting sweeping them back and forth across the field, and there were so many people, so many grappling and struggling and bleeding and dying…He hated war. But he hated the idea of Voldemort ruling much more, and it drove him to continue even though all he wanted to do was lie down and pretend that this mass slaughter wasn't happening. The ground shook behind him and he spun around to see Malfoy leaping off of his dragon, a pair of metallic silver wings carrying him through the air, a blazing sword covered in icy flames in each hand. He picked someone up and deposited them on the dragon's back before landing.

The Death Eaters actually started running, and Malfoy's laughter was like a funeral dirge that egged them on. Holding out one sword, he spun in a circle and Dean hit the ground before the stream of white-blue energy could cut him in half like it was the others. It was as if he held an impossibly bright flashlight, and its beam was like a lightsaber out of Star Wars. And still he laughed, wild and somewhat free, but Dean only looked up when that brilliant radiance died down. He was surprised to see that Malfoy's eyes weren't their usual silver but a vibrant, bloody crimson, and then he was flying back into the fray, gone in a flash as if he'd never been there.

Blackened, hacked-up bodies surrounded him, and he saw that only a handful of others not wearing amulets had survived that swift attack. One was on the ground beside him, and he saw that it was a wounded Death Eater. Raising his wand, something stopped him and he looked harder. Familiar hair was poking out from underneath the hood, and he pushed it back, horror filling every cell as inch after inch of that hair was revealed. Wanting to cry out in denial, he ripped the dirty mask off and met a pair of familiar brown eyes that were glazed over with pain. Feeling as if he'd just been stabbed, he could do nothing for a long while.

"Hermione?" He finally croaked, so many things running through his mind, memories of studying with her and trusting _her_, of all people, to never betray them.

But here she was in Death Eater robes, and…Oh god. He was going to be ill, seriously, seriously ill. The Dark Mark blazed on her pale skin, black and scabby, spilt through with infected yellow pus. It was too much. Leaning away, he threw up until he couldn't anymore, the bile nowhere near as rancid as the festering wounds in his soul. This was Hermione, Girl Wonder and Miss I-Can-Do-No-Wrong. Hermione, who'd always stuck by Harry and Ron through everything until they'd turned on her. Hermione, who he'd wanted to ask out once they'd graduated, but the war had started and she'd disappeared when so many others had, too…

Except that she hadn't 'disappeared' like most of the others. She had no green or silver ribbons braided into her hair, no purple or black sashes tied anywhere on her person. She had no second lying dead next to her or trying to help her as he'd noticed all of those fighting for Malfoy and Zabini had. All she had was that hideous brand and a gaping hole in her left side. Three simultaneous explosions sounded behind them, people were once more rushing madly by, and he still had no idea how long he'd been kneeling there, his world having crumbled in the span of a single meeting of eyes. And she was looking back at him.

"So sorry." She managed to choke out, and he could feel the tears rising in his throat. "I tr-tried to f-fight it, fight h-him. I did, I sw-swear." Her words cut worse than any sword, and for the first time, he couldn't believe her.

And he didn't know what to do. Another explosion rocked the earth and rent the air, closer that time, and Hermione's eyes squeezed shut as she was jolted around. Some part of him still hated to see her in pain, because even with the Mark on her arm and the mask at her side, she was still _Hermione_, and damn it all if didn't still love her. _That_ thought finally had tears streaking down his cheeks, and he felt more lost than he ever had in his life. Her hand tried to clasp his and he was helpless to stop it, completely shell-shocked at a time when he couldn't afford it. The fighting was growing thick around them once more, and it was probably a matter of seconds before he was seen.

"Run!" He heard someone shout, and a group of Death Eaters sped right past them, fleeing from something or someone.

He saw who it was moments later, and realized where the explosions must have been coming from. Because Ginny was coated in flames, those scarlet wings beating snow into the air as she hovered above the ground, chasing the Death Eaters as if it were nothing more than a game, flames a darker red than any he'd ever seen flickering in her fists as she threw ball after ball of them easily and precisely. She spotted Dean and grinned, a somehow feline baring of sharp fangs that in no way comforted him. Then she spotted who he was kneeling over, and she came towards them, tweaking every instinct that he had, making him feel like he'd be safer away from her altogether.

"Hermione?" The fiery girl called, and that voice slid over his skin like a velvet caress, dark and smooth and utterly dangerous, and he recoiled from it, feeling like a rabbit lost in a leopard's den.

That feeling wasn't helped when he saw the three gigantic Nundu pacing at her floating heels, each bearing a vampire on its back. And not just any vampires, oh no, not for _her_ guard. Dean had developed quite a fascination with the creatures over the years, and he knew that the tattoos around their eyes and running down the sides of their faces marked them as favorites of the Ancients, the Old Ones' most elite warriors. What vampire had made her and her boyfriends for them to warrant such a high sign of favor? The other vampires he could understand, but these were rumored to never leave their select master's side.

"Is she hurt? What's wrong?" Ginny asked, growing ever closer.

Wondering how much this betrayal would mean to her, he moved out of the way soundlessly, something in his core bidding him to make way for her. That same something made him want to kiss the hems of her bloody robes as she neared him, made him want to clean the gore off of her armor with the utmost care and attention. Startled, he seemed to snap out of whatever haze had fogged his thoughts, though the desires stayed strong within him. He had no idea what was making him act in such a way, but it was disturbing and spooky and…_right_. Bone-numbingly right in a way that few things had ever been.

She terrified him, but he still wanted nothing more than to serve her as he fell into those charcoal eyes. It had nothing to do with lust or sex, for even thinking of it seemed somehow wrong and made him feel filthy, as if he'd just spit in the face of a god. To touch her with his unworthy hands would be the greatest of treasons, and he would set fire to all the world's temples before that happened. He had no idea what was making all of these things suddenly root themselves inside of him, but they were there and they were strong. He noticed others falling to their knees as she passed, their faces lit with the same confusion and wonder that he himself was feeling.

"Answer her!" One of the vampires snapped, reining the Nundu up right in front of him and splashing him with bloody snow. Meeting the creature's eyes, the complete lack of humanity in them made him feel cold all over again in a way that had nothing to do with the snow. The vampire hissed when he stayed silent, and words were soon spilling from him in a torrent.

"I was fighting with Melody but we got separated after she saved my life, and then Malfoy came out of nowhere on a dragon and got off, killing everyone and laughing, and I got as low as I could and then I looked up and he was heading into the worst part of the fighting, to the east, and his eyes were _red_, and then I got up and I saw her, and…and…and oh, fuck, I'm going to be sick again." Just thinking of the Dark Mark on Hermione's arm was enough to make him dry heave, and he could feel the disgusted stares of the vampires drilling into him.

"He's gone Godridden. Gods can do that with those of their Chosen that are the same gender as they are." She said absently, and he supposed that she was referring to Draco and his strange eyes. "Now, what else is wrong? Why are you so upset?"

He lifted his eyes to hers and let all of his internal agony fill them, knowing instinctually that she would see and understand. She did, and her darkly ringed eyes went dead and cold in seconds, at odds with the scorching heat rolling off of her. She fell to her knees beside Hermione and he wanted to stop her, to tell her that it was somehow obscene to see her on her knees for any reason, and he'd even reached out to touch her shoulder when he suddenly found a bladed staff at his throat. The female vampire holding it and the Nundu underneath her both flashed fangs at him, and he drew his hand back instantly.

"Please, no." Ginny said, and then she reached out and pushed Hermione's sleeve up, while the brown-haired girl looked at her with horrified, fearful, guilt-filled eyes.

The Dark Mark shone sickly in the open air once more, and the vampires moved forward swiftly to kill her. But Ginny raised a small, delicate, deadly hand and they stopped immediately, although they didn't look too happy about it. It was obvious that they wanted nothing more than to split Hermione open from end to end, and Dean was glad that Ginny had stopped them, because he knew he would never have been able to get over seeing something like that. Hermione and Ginny kept their eyes locked together for a good while before the fire-haired girl pulled away and closed hers mournfully. He could see her conflict, and wondered.

'_Will she kill her?_'

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

'_Will I kill her?_'

Dean would have been distressed to know that Virginia was thinking the same thing that he was. The Dark Mark on Hermione's arm was her death sentence. To see it so clearly on her, to _feel_ it and its foul touch…It was death on sight, an order straight from the mouths of her lovers. And, technically, she and her House still served under them unless they married. She knew that they would usually have played blatant favoritism and made an exception for her, and Draco might still if she could find the right way to press her case. But Blaise would never forgive this, no matter how sweet her words or what pleas fell from her lips.

And truthfully, looking down at a girl who'd been her friend for a very long time, she didn't know if she thought it worth begging for in the first place. That vile skull leered up at her, and it wasn't just her rage that poured through her, but her god's as well. Divine fury was like a drug, and though she and Padma couldn't become Godridden like her boyfriends since they were female, they could still channel their Lord to a certain extent. And even _He_ agreed that the girl should die, and that Blaise would have her heart as soon as he learned of her treachery. Dean was looking at her intently, and she raised her eyes to his and watched him fidget for a moment.

"You love her." It was not a question, and he seemed to know that, so he just nodded. "I'm sorry."

"What? You…You're not going to _kill_ her, are you? Ginny, that's _Hermione_." He stressed, searching her face. But her features stayed blank and he pulled back, shivering even though her heat had long melted all of the snow around them. Rising to her feet, she made her decision, the only one that she could make. She was bound too tightly by love and respect and devotion to do anything else.

"You'll have a better chance if you leave with her now. It will not be my hand that kills her, but I will not stop Blaise when he comes for her, either. He made her a promise, and he never breaks those."

Then she was gone, shooting back up into the air with wings that were a gift from her Lord and the Morningstar. Pain and rage ate at her, and she wondered how many more people would betray her before she decided to Pass. Knowing the long centuries that spread out before her, she knew that it was inevitable. Sickened at the thought, she let the fury grab her again, and sunk into battle madness. Her vampire guard, supplied by Neithotep, followed her on the ground, and she waited until she was in the center of a large group of fighting before calling her power to her. It beat in time with her heart, pulsing over her skin, and she reveled in it.

Like moths drawn to a flame, her lovers shot up out of the fray and into the night sky. Their Marks tingled, and Padma rose above the rest as well, until they formed a huge diamond. She had planned on blasting a few scores of them on her own, but their Lord was ready to make an appearance, and the Marks guided them almost subconsciously. Glowing like hovering stars, each held out their arms and let the power reach toward the other until a diamond of dark light was visible, stretching from one to the other. Those underneath them wanted to run but found themselves frozen in place. Still the power grew, beginning to leak from the lines to the center.

They rose higher, higher, until she felt the first clouds brushing against her skin, and then a portal opened between them, and Cocidius came out of it in all of his dark, golden glory. Screams split the tense air, and continued as Lucifer came out on His heels, then Hades, Osirus and Afallach, Pluto and Hodur, Isis and Persephone, Macha, Holle and Proserpine. The Dark Royals appeared before humans for the first time in ages, and every one of them dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. Still gods and goddesses poured out of the portal with unmatched grace, Mars and Ares and Thanatos, Anuke and Am-Heh, Loki and Neptune, Skadi and Donn and Taranis.

Still they kept coming, until the sky was full of them, and she recognized many of those from the Light Court. All of the High Queens of Heaven had come, but none of their Kings. The reason for it reached her through her Mark, and her ire burned ever hotter when she heard what Dagda had done to them. Damn the Bane! The High Kings of the Sky Realm were lost to them unless the Bane was destroyed, because Dagda had turned it against them and half of Heaven in one fell swoop. Only the Queens' shielding had saved the others and allowed them to escape. And Dagda was coming; she could feel it through her connection to Cocidius.

The gods formed into ranks in the sky, and she, her lovers and Padma broke formation and went to their head, dropping to their knees before their Lord in midair. He ran a glowing, spectral hand over them lovingly, and they trembled at His nearness. Then the sky on the other side of the field split open, four figures in the air on that side as well, and she knew that she was getting her first glimpse of the Dark Lords that they were meant to fight. The light and clouds around them obscured her vision, but she knew that she would meet them face-to-face soon enough. She ached for it in a way; some part of her wished for nothing more than to kill them all.

She watched as the opposing, tainted gods slid out of the other side, and saw the disgust of the divine beings all around her. With the other gods' appearance, Voldemort's army seemed to get their bearings back, and the fighting started again, though many couldn't help their eyes wandering to the sky filled with legends. Faintly, then growing louder, she could hear those of their forces raising their voices in worship and joy, even as they tried not to die. Knowing that the gods still existed due to one's Chosen walking the earth was one thing, but seeing them spread out above them was something entirely different, especially for the purebloods.

"Go, my Chosen." Cocidius said, a low roll of divinity sliding through them like a caress. "Thy people need thee among them on the earth, as mine need me in the sky. We _will_ see one another again." He said when He felt their reluctance to leave His side. "Now go, and know that fate moves with thee." They nodded once, sent Him their reverence and love, and turned to leave. The last thing they heard as they dove for the ground was Lucifer's sensual, modern drawl.

"As it moves with _you_, Cocidius? Should you rip the High Crown from Dagda's brow, you will be…"

They heard no more, the ground rushing up to meet them, and wings fanned out to either side, slowing their descent until their feet hit the ground. Two scarlet streaks shot out of the frantic mass of fighting, and both twins were soaked in red, dripping blood, grinning madly with battle lust. Wordlessly, they surrounded Padma and left with her to the right, while Virginia, Draco and Blaise set off to the left. People were looking at them so strangely; they'd been doing it before, but now it was ten times worse. And their warriors were kneeling and abandoning fights all over the place whenever they passed by, as if they simply couldn't help themselves.

Realizing swiftly that them staying on the ground simply wouldn't work, since just the sight of them seemed to be enough to make most lose their heads completely, they took to the air again, swooping in and out of the crazed Dementors that hadn't fed so well since the Grindelwald Wars. Targeting a group of giants that had pulled one of the dragons out of the sky and had it and its rider backed against a pile of their own dead kin, blocking the dragon's flames with huge, rough-looking shields, they converged on them as one, ice, fire and lightning melding together into one cohesive, lethal force. The giants were dead before they even had time to see what hit them.

The rider called a hurried, but genuine, thanks to them before shooting back into the air, and they saw Charlie's familiar hair flash in the light of more dragon fire to the side of them. Banking to the right, they went in a circle and sent their senses out to see where they were most needed. A pack of werewolves was wreaking havoc not too far away, and feral grins spread across their faces. Killing those particular traitors was fun and gave them a deep sense of satisfaction, and Neithotep rose in them when she sensed their prey. They landed lightly, uncaring of their effect on others for the moment as the werewolves noticed them, amber eyes filling with loathing.

"Come on, puppies. Try your luck." Draco taunted, sheathing his swords and moving for them.

The first sprung and found its throat ripped out a second later, Draco's movement nothing more than a blur, even to her eyes. The others attacked at once, and she and Blaise sheathed their blades as well, the opportunity of hand-to-hand combat with the wolves too tempting to pass up. Two came at her from either side, and the first got a boot to the face as she snatched the second up by the back of its neck and shook it, hearing bones crack under her fingers with the vicious movement. The other was on her a second later, and she let it ride her to the ground before leaning up and kissing the side of its dripping muzzle.

It crumbled to ash on top of her, and a third tried to get her while she was down. She moved not a muscle until it was flying at her, then rolled at the last second and let it crash to the ground before leaping on its back. Wrapping a hand in the shaggy fur of its head she yanked it back and bared its throat before sinking fangs into it and holding on tightly as it bucked underneath her. The powerful blood slid through her, tasting of revenge and old debts, and she let the wolf's body slid lifeless back to the ground moments later. Quick feedings always gave her a rush, and she got back to her feet in one liquid, energetic movement.

"There's another over there." She heard Blaise point out, a pile of dead wolves surrounding him as he looked over her shoulder at the stray.

He and Draco moved to her side and she spun to see the one he spoke of. Recognition swirled in some part of her mind and she felt, for a moment, like she shouldn't kill that one, but the instinctual hatred that churned inside of her was too strong. They moved for him at once, and he was too busy fighting to notice. He looked to be fighting _against_ the Death Eaters, but the scent of the wolf was too thick on him for her to follow that thought. Their grins growing wider, they were less than three feet behind him when he killed the one he was fighting and turned to them with honey-colored eyes that enraged them even farther.

"Ginny?" He asked, before his nostrils flared and his eyes locked onto her bared fangs. That primordial fury filled his own eyes, and he lifted a hand to strike her when someone else grabbed it and yanked him backwards. He fell into Sirius, whose eyes were wild with fear, though not for himself. The darker haired man pushed the werewolf back behind him, and Ginny wanted to protest and tell him that the thing couldn't be trusted at his back, but Sirius spoke first.

"Please, don't." He said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "It's Lupin, it's Moony. He's all I have left. He was here fighting for the Light. _Please_."

"Sirius…" Blaise started in a low voice, obviously struggling with himself; clawed fingers twitching with the need to cut the werewolf open and watch it bleed.

But there was a blast of dark power behind them, and the werewolf was of no concern when they turned and saw who came toward them. Three figures wreathed in darkfire were headed straight for them, killing everyone in their path, even their own warriors. Voldemort was the one in the middle, that much was obvious. He looked fully healed, expect his blood-red eyes looked as if the irises had been cut into sections, shot through with white, the only sign of the poison's damaging effects. He had a smug grin on his face, and when the Dark Lords to either side of him turned to face them, they saw why. It was impossible, yet true all the same.

Both had wings stretching to either side, but they were not feathered, but made like a bat's, all leathery and thin, nearly see-through. They were the color of rusted blood and had clawed tips that dripped with toxic fluids that ate through the snow at their feet. They were the same height and built identically, completely like the other but for their coloring. The one to the left had hair of spun silver that glinted in the starlight, the other locks of the deepest black that ate it instead. Eyes of mercury and indigo ran over them expectantly, as if judging their worth in the same way that they themselves were being judged.

But it was not all of that that was impossible, nor was their likeness to each other. It was the fact that they were carbon copies of her lovers that sent chills down her spine. Those were Draco's eyes staring at her as if she were nothing but a powerful prize; Blaise's face that gazed at her with nothing but dislike etched across his features. It was unsettling and disturbing, and she took her lovers' hands in hers as if for confirmation that they were next to her and not standing before her, reeking of evil and tainted blood. She could feel her lovers close themselves off behind unbreakable mental walls, and when the two who looked exactly like them stepped forward and spoke in unison, each looking at his counter-part, she felt the world become unsteady underneath her feet.

"Hello, brother."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

(laughs evilly) You know you love me! Now, please REVIEW!!!!


	30. The Endtimes Pt 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, hehehe, you are just the best. (kisses your feet and waits patiently for your next review)** Catalina Royce**, I adore you, have I mentioned that lately? Well, I do. :)** Cloaked**, hello darling! I think you'll like this one! love ya!** coffeechick87**, (goggles at your long review) I love you! I love you sooooo much! Thanks!!** el chikita joules**, I don't care if you ramble, I'm a review whore, remember? lol** Cougar**, I'll email you the link, but I need your email address. and that was a badass review, thanks!!** Fallen**, glad you liked! thanks!! **mandabella**, well, I've never had it compared to crack before, but thanks!! :) **NeoAddctee**, glad you like! thanks! **Metnal Porblem**, thank you!!!! **VirginVixen-666**, blame me in biology all you want, lol. **TarynMalfoy88**, here's an end to that suspense. :) **Tom4ever**, thank you! here it is! **Angie**, thanks! **MagicBirdie22**, I emailed you, hope you got it! **DragonSpitfire22**, THANKS! **im no muggle**, like the new name, and you'll see! **Sphinxtress**, thank you soooo much! **harry-fanfic-reader**, thanks! **Piekitty**, I respect what you said, but you'll have to wait and see! **ladyize**, THANK YOU! That was an awesome compliment! I'm _so_ blushing! **babykelyse**, thanks!! **Lisa**, this chap should answer your questions! **fuzzycat982**, hope you had fun on the trampoline, lol. **Erin**, thank you!! **sexyjunkie**, I dunno if you got my email, but it wasn't ron!! **a:sam**, thanks, as always!! **Wicked Not Evil**, love ya too! and I hope you like this one! **sillysun**, well, you were right! this chapter's definitely huge! love ya! **Kagome loves Inuyasha**, thanks! **Sunday-Morning**, awesome review! Thank you so, so, so much! **Amazon Mink**, thanks! **dancingirl**, oooh, your review had me cracking up and blushing at the same time! thanks! **me**, glad that you liked that scene! hope you like this chapter too, and thanks for the typically wonderful review! **SkotosEnigma**, if anyone can put the emotions on paper, it's you, my dear! love ya! **Tytianne**, thank you! **CrackingUp**, thanks! **mosleyn001**, hope this was soon enough, and thanks! **Lithui**, you like the sai, too? yay! go us! oh, and thanks! **bigreader**, no, they didn't kill Sirius! I almost had a fucking heart attack when JKR did, so I definitely couldn't do that! horror of horrors! lol **otaku sae**, glad you liked, and this should clear it up a bit, lol. **candace1989**, yes, it is, but please don't cry! :) **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, you'll see! this ones a doozy! lol **Psi**, thank you! **quimbytimmons**, THANKS!!!! **d0rkprincess**, hope you like this one! :) **gin rose raposo1**, thanks a lot!! :) **aoi-yuki-yume**, as always, thank you _so_ much!!

**………………………………………………………………………………………………….**

Padma, too, had noticed everyone's strange behavior, and had taken to the air herself, the twins on either side of her, wings almost as dark as their sister's keeping them aloft. Cocidius and Lucifer had done…something, and their shapeshifting abilities had expanded, making it easy to learn the new trick. Sweeping her hand out in yet another large arch, she forced everyone not wearing an amulet of their army to the ground with an invisible wall of pure gravity, pushing and pulling at the same time. Fred and George let loose streams of fire from their outstretched hands, roasting those that hadn't died under the pressure of her attack.

They seemed the most at home when channeling their sister's flames through the Marks and the rings, and Padma knew that it had a lot to do with the latent Elemental blood in their veins. That blood had awoken in their family once again through Virginia, and calling on her heat was the most natural choice for them, although they could wield the others as well with the rings' help. The twins had stayed at her back since they had met up after the gods' appearance, and the only reason they hadn't been with her before was because they had each led small divisions of the Brotherhood's warriors in, invisible in the fray.

They would be with her for the remainder of the battle, though, living or dying beside her, and an aching filled her chest at the thought of their deaths, causing the next that died at her hands to do so much more painfully than most. They noticed her sudden streak of cruelty, of course, but said nothing as desperate Death Eaters tried to hex them out of the sky. Fools. They were still wearing their amulets, as were the Slytherins, and the shields in them had been activated long ago. Every member of their army had been given amulets to ward off their more…destructive attacks, but they were hastily made, considering the numbers that had had to be forged.

So they saved them from the Elemental unleashings, but not from common curses or the Dark Lords' attacks like the Slytherins' amulets did. But more care and time had gone into the Slytherins', and the others were lucky to have any at all. But they'd been forced to do _something_ to protect them, or they would have died along with the Death Eaters. And they _were_ dying alongside them, just not from the major releases of Elemental power. They were falling in loads before the Dark Lords, however, which she could sense even though she couldn't see them. Three were to her right and on the ground, another not a hundred yards from her.

Then, with a suddenness that almost knocked her from the sky, Draco and Blaise slammed mental shields into place so quickly that she very nearly screamed from the instant, wrenching loss. Something had gone horribly wrong, and she reached for Virginia only to meet the same unmovable resistance. The twins were paler than usual when she looked up, fading freckles looking darker than they had in weeks, and she knew that they were thinking the same thing even without confirming it through their Marks. They needed to find the others, and preferably as quickly as possible. They turned to where they'd felt them last, but stopped before they'd even really begun.

Because the gods, who'd stayed in their silent ranks as if having a conversation that no mortal or immortal ear could hear, suddenly sprung into action. The opposing forces met in a cataclysm of light, dark and white alike, and the aftershocks of it knocked everyone to the ground _hard_. One of her wings was yanked on viciously, the other snapped underneath her as she slammed onto her side on something that felt like a metal mountain, and something else just stopped her head from cracking into it next. Looking up, she saw that Fred had managed to cushion her fall by grabbing her other wing and throwing his arm out.

His fingers were curled around part of the metal…whatever it was that she had hit, and he was a good six feet above her, his arm obviously ripped out of socket from the force, but he still held on until he saw that she could brace herself before he let go. Her head was lying on George's stomach; he'd somehow managed to roll underneath her at the last second to save her skull at the expense of his own. His eyes were glazed as they met hers, the thick metal underneath them actually _dented_ where his head was resting, and she scrambled off of him immediately, her broken wing hanging uselessly as it started to reknit itself.

"Oh gods, George, you know I heal faster than you do." She murmured as she knelt next to him, and she felt more than saw Fred crawl up to them from behind, his eyes scanning everything around them, his injured arm cradled in his lap. It wasn't a metal mountain that they were on at all, but a giant's helmet. Her Lord's fury filled her, but it stayed in the background for the moment.

The noise around and above them was deafening, and instead of gawking, most seemed to become even more crazed as they drew themselves to their feet, the rage and battle fury of the gods infusing them from head to toe. Purebloods all over the field were bursting into wandless brilliance, a side effect that lasted only until the battle's end and one that had not been witnessed since the last Great War between the gods. She could not help soaking it in for a moment, but not even such a sight as that was, like a blanket of landed, multi-colored stars, could keep her attention from the wounded young man in front of her. Nothing could for long.

As she started a rapid healing, she couldn't help but feel more than a little guilty. He had done this for her; they both had. But why? _You know why_, she told herself sternly. _They are our liegeman; they had no choice. _Then why did she so desperately want a different answer to that question? And why was it so hard to see straight when she noticed his bright red blood staining her hands, or when she saw and felt just how bad the injury was? And why, as she turned to Fred to heal him as well, did her stomach get the strangest flutterings deep within it whenever their eyes met? Why did she want so badly to touch them both, to see them both smile?

_Because, _she answered herself once again, _you had to go and fall in love with them, and that was a very stupid thing to do. _

"Padma?" Fred's voice drew her out of her study of the different shades of blue in his eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat up before she could stop them. They were in the middle of a battle for their lives, for Merlin's sake! What the hell was wrong with her?

"Sorry. Here." She said, keeping her gaze firmly trained on his shoulder as she laid soothing hands on him.

The healing came as easily as it always did, and she focused entirely on her task, trusting him to watch for any approaching danger. His shoulder snapped back into place painlessly, the torn muscles and ligaments obeying her silent directions like chess pieces obey verbal ones, and he was sighing in relief a minute later, experimentally flexing his arm. George was rising to a sitting position behind them, looking hale and whole once more, and there were so many things that she wanted to say, but she _couldn't_. They caught in her throat like broken glass, and she launched herself skyward, her own wing long healed, unable to look upon them without sobbing.

They followed immediately, trying to reach her through the Marks, but her heart's desires were something that she simply couldn't put into words just yet. Be it fear of rejection or fear of losing them to the fight that night, she didn't know. All she knew was that she would see that they survived it no matter what. But right then, they needed to find the others, needed to find out why they'd suddenly blocked themselves like they had. She was nothing but a blurred streak shooting through the air, and she sensed the invisible shields that sprung up right in front of her not a second too soon, barely having time to throw her arms up to protect her face.

There was no cushioning _that_ impact, and it would have killed her had she been mortal. As it was, her left side was shattered, a red fog was encasing her vision, and she was plummeting for the ground, which was so very, very far below her. Throwing her link to Cocidius open wide, she did the quickest healing of her life, abusing the bones and muscles so badly that she knew she wouldn't be able to walk without constant agony for at least a week. But the important part was that everything worked once again, she was on the ground, and rage was blocking any trickles and spurts of pain she might have still felt. Who _dared_ to cast her from the sky?

The fury she was feeling was odd, something that seemed so much like her, but so much _different_ at the same time, as if she were suddenly sharing a body and a mind with another person. Or as if she had just been split in two…It was just _strange_. But she felt no warning from Cocidius, so she knew that no one had possessed her or anything of the sort. The indignant ire that filled her to the brim made her heart harden and her eyes narrow, made a chilling blank area form inside of her that would not flinch before anything. She felt regal, supreme, all-powerful…And she was not pleased, not pleased at all. Turning slowly, she saw Fred and George landing behind her.

"Are you alright? What..." Fred's words trailed off as he and George met her eyes, and both dropped to their knees. Cocking her head to the side, she wondered why it didn't seem odd for them to be doing such a thing. Part of her felt as if she'd seen them do it a million times, while the other half argued that she'd seen it only once, maybe twice before. What in the bloody hell was going on?

"Oh, Pad-maaaa…" A voice sang out from behind her, twisting her name into something that sounded foul and lecherous.

Something in that voice drew her attention, though, and she turned to face it slowly. Fred and George rose at her slightest prompting through the Marks, and they turned to see three figures arranged in much the same way that they were, two flanking the one in the middle. All three had low hoods pulled down over their faces, and all three were tall and slender. They moved forward a bit, and Padma could sense the shields they had thrown up around them, and knew that she could break free. But there was no point, because she knew who stood before her, and she'd been hoping to run into one of them. And the center figure was most certainly a Dark Lord.

"Yes?"

"Such a cold greeting from you to me." The Dark Lord replied, winding ever closer in small, almost imperceptible movements. Its shadows flanked it dutifully, and she stopped the forward progress of them all with an invisible shield of her own when they began to get too close.

"You thought to receive a warm one? All the more a fool that makes you." Padma said evenly, the old, steadying sense of the earth solid underneath her feet, as comforting as the feeling of the twins at her back.

"What else _should_ I have expected? It's only right that you treat your family kindly." The voice hissed from inside that shadowy cloak, and one pale hand drew the hood back slowly as the next words escaped its lips. "Isn't that right, _sister_?"

"You're dead." Padma said blandly, half of her completely unaffected while the other half was reeling in shock and screaming, '_Parvati!?_'

"No. Well, not _anymore_, at least." Her twin replied, and Padma studied her features as she continued speaking. She was completely mad, that much was obvious with barely more than a glance, but she was also graying, as if she wasn't fully alive. That or Dagda didn't care much for her. "I _was_ dead, thanks to those fucking sociopath friends of yours, but my Lord brought me back."

"Did He, now?" Padma asked, beginning her own slow circle around the three standing before her, ignoring the battle raging on all sides of the shields surrounding them. Parvati's face scrunched up in a move that Padma remembered so well it was practically ingrained in her mind, and she inwardly cursed. She'd thought herself rid of the treacherous slut. Okay…_that_ had been the weird part of her rearing its head. But then why did it feel so right to think it? As if she would have usually, but something had been missing and now it wasn't…She was confusing _herself_, and she really couldn't afford it at the moment.

"Are you trying to say that He couldn't?" Parvati demanded, and the whine in the latter part of the sentence was definitely her sister's. Great.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Padma asked, because if there was one thing her sister loved, it was gloating, even if half of what she was gloating about was only her own delusions. One thing that was _not_ a delusion, however, was the dark power rolling off of her.

"He _did_." Traces of the pout still lingered, and stronger traces of the madness became apparent every second. "He was searching for His forth Dark Lord, and He found my soul lingering where they'd killed me. He knew a bit about me, since you are not the only one in our family that inherited a bit of the Sight, and I had gone to Voldemort after I had a vision of killing you. I knew where to be, and thought I knew how it would end, but I did not See the two Slytherins' interference. It mattered not, though, for my Lord sensed the power of my hate, sensed how black and festering it had become, and He twisted me into what I am, imbibed me with all the powers of a Dark Lord, or if you wish to be more specific, a Dark _Lady_."

"But you cannot be the forth." Padma argued. "The Lady said four 'ill-begotten bastards' would be our opponents, and you are no more a bastard than I."

"Maybe in my last life." Parvati agreed, and in a movement that was almost too fast for even Padma's reflexes, her hand shot out and toward her twin's face, sharp claws extended maliciously.

Padma might have only barely avoided that first swing, but two could play at that game. Her leg shot out so fast that not even Fred or George would have been able to avoid it, but Parvati somehow did. Had she been her normal self, it would have shocked her, but this new…cold half of her didn't shock easily. Or really at all. And again, it felt so natural that she didn't even think to fight it. She just stayed in that clear space that it had made inside her mind, and blocked Parvati's fist as she tried to drive it into her stomach. She seemed to have plenty of time to stop each swing, but her sister did too, and they were getting nowhere.

"You're fast, jaaNataa ekuu, but are you fast enough?" Parvati taunted, the Marathi nickname spilling from her lips, meaning to wound. But it didn't throw her off balance, and she saw the disappointment in her sister's eyes before she could hide it. ((wise one))

"I suppose we shall see, dushhTa ekuu." Padma threw back in her face, the cursed word slipping from her lips with ease, and she realized that it was because it was true. ((evil one))

"You have killed as many or more than I." Parvati objected, stepping back and letting a few feet of empty space distance them again.

"Yes. But what were your reasons? Mine was the preservation of our people and those that I love. But you…you wish only to preserve yourself, even if your preservation has you looking like _that_." She stressed the last word, hitting her sister where it had never failed to hurt. If Parvati had any trait to rival her ignorance, it would be her vanity. As expected, her twin recoiled the slightest bit, one hand that had lost its honeyed coloring rising to her cheek before she snarled and lowered it.

"Shut up!" Parvati screamed, and Padma laughed. "You still think you're better than me, don't you?" Parvati spat out, and Padma wondered if she could even count the number of times that she had been asked that question by the girl standing in front of her. Probably not. And that part of her that had only recently manifested itself bit back as she had always wanted to do.

"Yes." She hissed, stalking forward a step and watching Parvati pace backwards. "Yes, I think I'm fucking better than you, Parvati. I always have been and I always will be. You've damned your soul for eternity to futilely try, once again, to be better than me. But the sad truth is that you will _never_ be better than me, or even my equal, no matter what sick power your precious god has given you."

"Fuck you, Padma." Parvati said bitterly, and she lashed out again in another of those oh-so-quick movements, but Padma was better prepared for it that time, and the dagger never made it to her throat.

Her fingers clamped around her twin's wrist hard enough that she heard bones snap, and she threw the other girl away from her before falling into a defensive crouch as one of the hooded figures dove at her. She hit the ground and felt them pass over her, followed a split second later by George, and when she looked up again, they were grappling in the slushy red snow. Fred was fighting with the other anonymous figure, his eyes dark and fierce, and she had to turn away in order to keep an eye on her twin, who was holding her wrist and glaring for all she was worth. Sliding her boot daggers from their sheathes, Padma waited.

It didn't take long for Parvati's wrist to heal, and it took even less for her to work herself into attacking again. She charged her and swerved at the last second, hoping to trick Padma into following the first movement, but she had spent too many hours on the practice field with Draco and Blaise to have made such a foolish mistake. She caught the foot aimed at her head and rolled, causing Parvati to crash to the ground roughly, her momentum working against her. Padma leapt clear as soon as her feet hit the ground again, and she watched her twin pick herself up, shaking her head once to clear it before meeting Padma's eyes.

"You're all going to die, you know." Parvati said, wiping a thin line of blood from the corner of her mouth away. "You have no idea who the other two of my kindred are, or what they are capable of. They will kill the two Slytherins, and Virginia will be the Lord's slave."

"Two brand-new Dark Lords won't be a match for Draco and Blaise." Padma replied calmly, and she didn't like the glint in her sister's eyes.

"So says you." Parvati said slowly, as if savoring every word. "But can they kill each other?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Parvati?" Padma snapped, itching to throw one of the daggers. Or both. She wasn't picky.

"I'm talking about mirror images, dear sister." Parvati said, her tone bordering on gleeful. "Blood of their blood, flesh of their flesh, and identical to them in every way but one. But illusions can be cast, and leather made to look like feathers. I ask you again: Can they kill each other?"

"They have no siblings."

"None that you knew of." Parvati corrected, waggling her finger back and forth like their old nanny used to do.

"You lie."

"No. You just hope that I am." Parvati seemed to be on a roll, and she turned her eyes to where the twins were each straddling one of her shadows with a blade at their throats, the hoods somehow still hiding their features, before looking back at Padma. "Tell them to release them."

"No."

"But don't you want to know how your friends came to have such marvelous brothers?" Parvati asked, and Padma let loose a slew of curses inside her head. Damn her!

"Release them." Padma said, and Fred and George flowed off of them in liquid movements, returning to her side immediately. The hooded figures stood, staying where they were, and she asked what Parvati knew that she wanted to know.

"How could they possibly have brothers?"

"Well," started the obscured figure to the right, "that was Lucius's doing."

It stepped forward a bit, and lowered its hood with the same slowness that Parvati had, as if revealing their faces had been part of the show, part of the game. She could understand why when she saw the impossibility before her. She had studied the old pureblooded bloodlines too extensively not to recognize him immediately even if his face hadn't been famous. But as it was, anyone who knew anything about their world knew that face, with its sharp, familiar cheekbones and its full, sensual lips. No other family had that color hair, not even the Black's, and those eyes…There was absolutely no mistaking _them_, and the implications of that made her rage very nearly explode.

"His and mine." The man continued, a knowing look on his face, as if he could sense hers and the twins' hatred of him. "But, how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself." As if he needed an introduction.

"I doubt that will be necessary." She managed to get out from between gritted teeth, but he moved forward and bowed mockingly anyway.

"It is a true pleasure to meet you, Lady Patil. I am Jeran Zabini. Might you know where my son is?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Marcello had split from Sebastian and Melody, leaving them on the ground when Draco had put him on the massive Horntail he'd been riding and told it to play nice with him, before his silver-haired friend had completely wasted an entire section of Death Eaters in less than five or six seconds. The huge black beast had turned to regard him, and for a moment, he'd worried that Draco had misjudged his control over the dragon. He should have known better, though, and the dragon had simply narrowed yellow eyes that would have looked more at home on a cat's face at him before all of those muscles had bunched under scale and they'd shot into the air.

He'd ridden dragons before, but he'd never been suicidal enough to try his luck on a Horntail before. He'd never even _seen_ anyone that could keep their seat on one except for Draco and Blaise, and he'd always declined their offers to let him try. They'd said that he would be safe enough if they told the dragon to behave, but he'd never had enough of a death wish to take them up on it. Which is probably why Draco had placed him on this one in the first place. That was definitely one way to conquer a fear, he supposed, and it was most certainly the way that _they_ usually went about it. If you were terrified of it, then you absolutely had to try it at some point or another.

Shaking his head, he guided the dragon with the same gentle commands that he would have used with any other, and was quite surprised when they worked. It was more about body language than anything verbal, a tensing of muscles and applications of pressure on certain sections of the scales. He was seated on the dragon's shoulders were the dip formed a natural perch, and it bore a harness even though Draco rarely used one, which let him know that the other hadn't planned on riding the entire time. He was still slightly shocked that the dragon was being so docile with him, but it was nothing compared to his shock when a sibilant voice blossomed inside his head.

'_I comply only for him. Do not think too highly of yourssself._'

Sweet Circe, was that the fucking _dragon_ speaking to him? He was suddenly extremely thankful of the harness, as he probably would have fallen off otherwise.

'_I wasn't._' He replied the way he would have to any person speaking with him mind-to-mind, not even sure that the great beast would hear him. But it did.

'_Good._' It said as it let loose another stream of fire, roasting everyone in its path. '_For I bear only royal blood willingly, and you, for all your purity, are not that. And watch my left ssside underneath your knee. The massster only had time to ssstop the bleeding and patch it up quickly._'

It said nothing else, for which he was both grateful and slightly disappointed, and he glanced down past his left leg. A section the size of a horse's entire body looked as if it had been blown out of the dragon's side, because there was a large area of fleshy pink scales that testified they were new. He knew that they wouldn't be as tough as they usually were until they'd turned black to match the rest, and they would be sensitive until the dragon's own quick-healing skills did that. Such a major healing should have drained Draco, but he'd looked more than active and healthy when Marcello had seen him last. He had looked…almost godlike.

The red eyes, the eyes of Cocidius, those he had seen before when Marcus had tried to rape Virginia. But the wings had been new, and so had the overwhelming desire to fall flat on his face in supplication. Supplication of what, he had no idea, but that hadn't changed the fact that he'd already been on his knees, swamped with a feeling of fealty and devotion, before he'd even thought about it. It wasn't as if he'd never kneeled to him before, because he had numerous times, but this had been…different. The dragon roared, the deep sound vibrating underneath him, and its kindred echoed it in kind from all over the field.

Then they were diving and exhilaration filled him from head to toe. He loved flying on dragons, and he'd never been on one as swift as this Horntail, because for all of its size, it was quicker and more agile than its smaller relatives were. That jet of fire made a wide arch around them, and the screams of the burning Death Eaters were just one set of wailing voices lost inside so very many others. Many of those that survived met their deaths at the end of his wand, and the majority were burned so badly that it was probably a blessing. The dragon also picked off a few more, swallowing them whole in the blink of an eye.

Those of their forces, however, were all still standing, because the dragons were creatures of the element of fire, and their amulets protected them from the bursts of flames, just as they warned off the dark creatures from thinking of them as food. They did another sweep of the area, and he could feel the dragon's jubilance at the killings. He didn't have any squeamish problems with causing another's death himself, but he didn't take such joy from it either when it wasn't all that personal. And war, when you were on the battlefield and the enemies were all nameless faces, was not personal. The slaughter at Nor Gorgun had given him pleasure; this was just…necessity.

It was after the third dive that he saw her, and his heart caught in his throat. No, no, it couldn't be her, except…Except that it was. Reining in the dragon urgently, all four of its clawed feet hit the earth and caused it to tremble, but it couldn't match his shaking hands or his thrumming heart as he spelled the harness undone and slid down one of those long forelegs with practiced ease. The dragon regarded him almost curiously for a moment, before its head snapped around and Blaise and five Dementors came out of nowhere, killing everything that stood in their way. The dragon bugled low in its throat and Blaise turned to face them.

As soon as those crimson eyes swept over him, the same feeling he'd had around Draco caught his breath and dropped him once more to his knees. Those bruised-looking lips twisted into a parody of a smile, one black-nailed hand beckoning for him to rise, and he did so on shaky feet. Blaise ran one hand over the dragon's snout lovingly, and did nothing as a huge forked tongue darted out and licked his hand and arm free of blood and thicker things. The dragon looked almost orgasmic, it's eyes rolling back in its head as if just the meeting of its tongue and Blaise's flesh was enough to send it into fits, and Blaise made a subtle hand movement.

One of the Dementors immediately responded to that minute gesture, and it was gliding up the dragon a split second later and seating itself in the harness. A wave of its own hand had the leather straps rethinking their idea of wrapping around it, and they fell obediently back to hang loose on either side. Blaise barely so much as glanced up at it, and it nodded once before spinning the dragon around expertly and letting it take a few running steps before it was airborne once more. Then those vivid scarlet eyes were back on him, and he was kneeling again before he had any conscious thought of doing so. Blaise looked slightly puzzled.

"What _are_ you doing?" He asked, and Marcello couldn't really say, so he stayed silent. "You will explain this later." Blaise stated after a moment of looking right through him, and Marcello nodded.

Then Blaise was gone and one of the Dementors had stayed behind, apparently to guard him. With a jolt, he remembered why he'd landed in the first place, and he spun around frantically, searching for that head of dark hair and the telltale staff of ivory. How long had he been distracted? There was no way to tell, and the fighting shifted constantly. Heading in the direction he'd last seen her, he unlatched his own staff from its place across his back, letting the Dementor worry about any trying to get at him while he worked. Using his wand, he had the staff breaking in two within seconds, and he slid the wand inside before slamming the two halves together again.

They fit together once more seamlessly, and the only thing that made his staff any different from hers was that it was solid black and made of marble. That and the foot long blades at each end. Giving it one experimental swing, he looked up in time to see someone try a Patronus Curse against the Dementor. But instead of chasing the Dementor off, the misty boar seemed to _feed_ it, and Marcello realized that the stories were true. Once a Dementor had charged itself up during what to it was a feast, they were unstoppable. Patronus Charms were the only real defense that people had against them in the first place, and when those no longer worked…Well.

Enormously glad that he was on the Dementor's side and had an amulet on in case it forgot, his staff slammed into one Death Eater's head as the Killing Curse left the other end of it. It was like holding a giant wand, and it had always been his favorite weapon. He'd drilled with it so many times that it was like a part of him, an extension of his body just like his arms or legs. He loved the way that it sliced through the air, he loved the way that it sounded when it smashed into someone's skull, and he loved the feel of it permeated with his magick, marking it as his and only his. Slamming one end into the trampled snow and earth, he used it as leverage.

A running step and then he was spinning, and the Death Eater behind him was quite surprised to find his legs wrapped around its neck. A vicious twist was all it took to hear bones popping, and he was back on his feet and stabbing another before the lifeless body even hit the ground. The Dementor was feeding in a way that he'd never seen before, not even getting close to its victims and yet still managing to perform the Kiss. And it wasn't just picking off one at a time, but all of those in a fifteen-foot radius. Streams of some different colored foggy substance were being sucked towards it as if it were a black hole and they'd wandered much, much too close.

Then it just _stopped_, the last of the misty shit disappearing into it, and it actually sagged for a second, nearly falling over. Before he knew what he was doing, and could therefore tell himself not to tempt fate like an utter fool, he was at its side and supporting it weight, which wasn't very much, as if it had hollow bones like a bird. Motherfucking Merlin, he was practically _hugging_ a fucking _Dementor_! Where had his bloody _sense_ gone? But it didn't try to latch onto him, didn't bring those ghastly lips close enough to make him panic. Draco and Blaise might have been okay with something like that, and he'd even seen Virginia let one kiss her cheek once, but he wasn't.

No, it just rose to tower over him again gracefully, and the shadows inside its hood swirled, giving him the impression that he was being judged. Turning away, he leapt over several bodies before entering the fighting again, and he did nothing so presumptuous as try and motion the Dementor to follow. It hadn't tried to kill him for touching it, and that was good enough for him. He was really going to have to talk to Blaise about what made an acceptable guard and what did _not_. It was creepy enough being around one for most _sane_ people normally, but what he had just seen that thing do was _anything_ but normal, and he told himself that he would _not_ touch it again.

He fought his way deep into a cluster of some of the more rough fighting, swearing he'd just seen a flash of pale ivory. The Dementor shadowed him, not doing…whatever the fuck it was that it had done before, and in the midst of all of the clashing blades and swift death that surrounded him, the chilling cold that it gave off was almost comforting. It stayed at his back, doing what it had been told to do and keeping him alive, and he absently thought that he should just shut up about the 'acceptable guard' thing, since Blaise obviously seemed to know what he was doing. Time passed immeasurably, but finally, eventually, he saw that white staff flashing.

And suddenly, not two hundred yards in front of them, he saw Draco, Blaise, Virginia and Padma rise up until they'd touched the clouds. A portal opened, a giant diamond that wavered and pulsed in the night sky, and then a figure of more beauty and majesty than he had ever thought to behold materialized out of it. Golden hair the color of the very sun spilled over lithe shoulders that still managed to convey power with every movement, and those familiar red eyes looked like two brilliant spots of blood, even from so far away. Recognition filled him a second before worship, and the divinity cloaking the air was like breathing in the scent of _home_.

God after god followed Cocidius, and he was stunned when he realized that he (and everyone else) had dropped to the ground, weapons forgotten along with the war. All that mattered was their first glimpse of the gods that they'd been blessed enough to have in millennia. Then the sky split open again, and he wasn't really sure what happened, but everyone was suddenly fighting again, and he felt completely reenergized as he rose to his feet. His soul felt lighter than it ever had before, and he _knew_, with a startling clarity, that he was not alone, that the gods did care for him, for he was pure and followed the old ways, and they cherished those that cherished them in return.

He swung his staff hard, hitting three Death Eaters in the face with one swipe, and one of the vampires was on them in seconds, coming out of nowhere. Leaving them to the pale predator, he worked his way to the girl who wielded that pearly staff with such accuracy, easily picking her out now. Coming up on her, he saw others of their forces fighting near her, but none that knew her enough to know that she wasn't supposed to be there, except for Narcissa, Silana and Armynel, but they were busy and surrounded by a wall of vampires three thick at their backs, their honor guard. _Her_ back was open to him, though, and he used all of his stealth to creep up on her, before turning his back to hers and spinning with her when she tried to see his face. All she got was an eyeful of the colorful ribbons braided into his hair.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Lycelle?" He demanded harshly, letting all of his displeasure color his tone, and he could feel her stiffen as she recognized his voice, even as she twirled that length of ivory and knocked another Death Eater unconscious.

"I had to come. Everyone I love is fighting here tonight." She called back after two more fell before each of them. Her words sounded carefully chosen, rehearsed, and it only heightened his anger.

"Yes, but they have all passed their sixteenth birthdays, and they are of the age of consent! But you, you are too young—"

"Do not stand there and call me young!" She spat, turning her back to the fighting as she spun around to face him, her eyes shining with something besides battle lust, something that he couldn't understand. Throwing a temporary shield up around them, he knew he had to at least _try_ to get her to leave before she got herself killed.

"Lycelle…"

"No! I was old enough to fuck, was I not?" She said in a low, strained voice, and he just stared at her for a moment.

"That has nothing to do with this." He said after a moment, knowing he was on shaky ground. How was he supposed to tell her that she was one of the maturest people he knew, and still convince her that she wasn't old enough to be in the middle of a gore-soaked battlefield?

"If I can fuck, I can fight." She argued, and he would have said something else, but there were Death Eaters trying to break through his shield, and he lowered it before they could so that they wouldn't catch him by surprise.

The bladed end of his staff sliced one's throat neatly, and he shot a curse through it a second later, taking out the one behind it, and then the one behind that one…Time blurred again as he concentrated fully on keeping both himself and Lycelle alive, the Dementor moving in and out of the fighting like a dark ghost. Gods, did they never stop coming? His eyes went to the sky once more of their own will, and that was the only reason he had enough time to throw himself on top of Lycelle before the lines of deities collided with each other. The shockwave blasted over them, pushing them into the wet ground with the force of a train, and his vision went black.

When he could see again, there was something…_strange_ growing inside of him. It kept building and building in intensity, until it slipped his skin and he was glowing like dark green sun. He stared at his hands in wonder for a moment, before Lycelle touched him with one hand that looked like a slice of moonlight, and he lifted his eyes to hers. She was shining as brightly as he was, a soft cream color, and he had never seen her look more beautiful. She blushed, a faint rosy glow infusing her milky radiance, as if she could see what he thought somewhere in his eyes. He distantly knew what was happening, but he couldn't be bothered with thinking on it.

He had never felt so powerful, so strong. And there was a spark of divinity within him that had never been there before, making him feel invincible and ancient. And furious. Springing to his feet, his staff was swinging out almost of its own accord, and a dark jet of light shot out from it, channeling his new wandless energy in a thick beam that he found, to his delight, he could keep going for almost twenty seconds at a time. Getting bored with that quickly, he dampened the power and went back to cracking heads open and slicing vital veins. His and Lycelle's backs were pressed together once again, and he had no time or inclination to argue with her anymore.

She could fight; he would give her that. And with the divine rage invading every cell, he couldn't think of much else but the battle. It wasn't until they'd killed a few werewolves and made it past some of the worst fighting that he saw it. At first, he wanted to deny what his eyes were witnessing, but he couldn't. If the Dementor hadn't been guarding him, he would have fallen during the space of disbelief that was strong enough to knock his concentration to shit. Because he knew that face, that form, those eyes. He also now knew who Slytherin's traitor was, as impossible as it seemed, and that traitor had just planted a knife in its lover's back. Literally.

He had to find Draco and Blaise.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Hello, brother."

Virginia didn't know what to think as the two look-alikes' gave her boyfriends an impossible title. Brothers? How? And her lovers' tight mental shielding wasn't helping her confusion. She didn't like the sudden, caliginous light in their eyes, didn't like how it clashed with the utterly blank expressions that they had donned. Because that made her think that it might be true, that they might seriously be standing before siblings that she'd had no idea that they'd had. And if so, had they known? Surely the melding of their souls through the Marks would have revealed something like _that_. And she couldn't ask now, not with them locked away inside their own minds.

Then she had a very simple revelation. She would just ask Cocidius.

'_My Lord?_'

'_What_ _is it? Speak quickly, beloved_.' He replied, and she could feel Him tensing for battle.

'_These…These clones, are they truly my lovers' brothers?_' She felt Him turn His attention to the two she spoke of.

'_Yes._' That one word cut through her like a knife. '_Now, brace yourself. I cannot shield you from this._'

That was all the warning she had, and she barely had time to reach out and pull her lovers to the ground with her before the explosion of divine power crashing into divine power flattened everyone on the field. She braced herself against it and vaguely felt her boyfriends' arms tightening around her as they used themselves to shield her from the flying debris and the crushing backlash of energy. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun, and her Lord's battle fury filled her to the brim and more. It did not cloud her thoughts, but stayed dormant until she was ready to call on it, and it made everything startlingly clear, like His presence always did.

Then her lovers were rising and extending pale hands to her, and she took them unthinkingly. It was only when she had her feet underneath her again and her eyes met hers that she froze. Because there was something _new_ in their familiar, black-ringed eyes, and it seemed to trigger something inside of her. It was as if she'd been split in half and somehow put together again all at once. It was _glorious_, exalted and august, and it was felt so _right_ even though it was the strangest feeling that she'd ever experienced. A small noise drew her attention, and her head snapped around to where the Dark Lords were also rising. _Let the games begin_, part of her taunted.

"And who are you to claim such blood-ties to my lovers?" She found herself demanding before she'd even thought about speaking. Those identical eyes that had so disturbed her at first didn't even faze her that time, and she met their cold gazes unflinchingly, even as the battle began raging around them again. She knew, somehow, that nothing would try to attack them while they were all together. "Speak!"

"Do not think to command _us_, fire witch." The one that moved and spoke and looked so much like Draco said, and she laughed.

"I will do as I please." She said, and she could _feel_ her boyfriends smirking languidly at her haughty tone, could _feel_ their approval and support, even without the Marks open. "Now answer the question. Unless you cannot?" She said the last coyly, and watched anger wash over their faces. Voldemort stayed still, seeming to enjoy the exchange, and she ignored him for the moment.

"We are flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood." Both of the look-alikes replied in unison, and it was inexplicably odd to see them pull that perfectly synchronized trick, a trick that her lovers used so often.

"Sounds flaky to me." She said smoothly, even though she knew it to be truth. She wanted to get a rise out of them, for anger always made the words flow faster when managed correctly, and she succeeded. The annoyance on their sculpted faces increased, and she knew that her lovers' amusement was increasing as well.

"Shut up! You know _nothing_." The Blaise look-alike said acidly, and the real thing took a step forward, contained violence boiling just under the surface and ready to explode.

"Then by all means, do enlighten us." Her boyfriend crooned, and his mirror image snarled.

"You." He hissed, and Blaise merely cocked an eyebrow. "You are weak. So much power, but too weak to do the smart thing and join with us. You hold fortunes that should be ours, magic that should be ours, and you are not even using either to support the side that you know will win. For _nothing_ can beat back the darkness, no amount of light."

"Whoever said anything about beating the darkness?" Blaise asked, a glazed look settling over those crimson eyes that did not bode well for the one he was thinking about killing. "We fight _for_ the darkness, for our Lord and the Great Lady. We fight for the void and for our love; we fight for purity and old honor. We fight to make our people great again, and all you do is fight to destroy them by elevating a fucking mudblood to rule." He said, a cruel edge in his voice that would send most people screaming, and Draco continued for him with that easy symmetry that they'd always had.

"We would kill every witch and wizard walking this Realm ourselves before seeing the sickness that you represent make them into brainless slaves, before seeing you taint the water and foul the soil until nothing grew or lived at all without your blessing." His red eyes were blazing and freezing at the same time, the black rings around them starting to swirl, and his voice was like a poisoned dagger dipped in liquid velvet.

"Not a very nice way to address your kin, Draco." His mercury-haired look-alike tsked, a severely unpleasant smile winding across his face.

"State your claims to our bloodlines and get it over with." Draco said, rolling his eyes. His counterpart sneered.

"Fine." Those rusty wings beat the air once, twice, before settling again. "Our father, Lucius, he and Jeran agreed to participate in a sort of…experiment."

"Really." Draco replied, not phrasing it as a question. His look-alike nodded.

"Oh, yes." He agreed, his smile somehow turning even nastier.

"They, along with Voldemort," the other continued for him, glancing at the third Dark Lord as he spoke, "wanted to create something new. Something that had never been tried before. They succeeded, as you can see."

"And just what are you, then?" Blaise questioned, nothing but mild curiosity on his face. He and Draco had both sunken deep into those dark, unfeeling places that they'd built within themselves long ago, and she had retreated to her own as well, although that strange part of her didn't seem affected anyway.

"Well, to understand that, you have to know how we were made." The other Draco said, moving the smallest bit closer.

"Three months after Voldemort was resurrected," the other Blaise started, "when you two first refused to join him upon your majorities, he had an idea. He asked our fathers, and they agreed. They brought our mothers in one night, drugged and insensible, and they fucked them stupid, or so we're told." He said, watching them closely for any reaction as the other Draco picked up where he left off.

"We were conceived that night, and as soon as they could feel the new sparks of life, they called on the Low Lord and Dagda. They…_infused_ us; they made us what we are. We grew quickly, and our mothers gave birth to us before the night's end. We were left in Voldemort's charge, and he has raised us, taught us the true path. We equal you in age, though we have barely seen two and a half years."

"You lie. Rapid growth and development to that degree is not possible." Virginia said, and they just looked at her. Then she saw something, something forming in their eyes that she couldn't help but recognize. Hellfire. That could mean only one thing, since she knew that none of the High Kings had given them the gift.

"Demon spawn!" She and her lovers exclaimed as one, and they could feel Cocidius's disgust as He heard their words and felt their thoughts, as He confirmed with one glance through them what they suspected. The two look-alikes laughed, and it was not a very nice sound. Not at all.

"Oh, so _now_ you believe." They taunted in unison, and she knew that her lovers' patience was wearing thin in a deadly way. They seemed to sense it too, because they scooted just a little bit closer before they spoke again. "We are you, just you as you should have been instead of you the way that you've actually turned out. We are not quite human and not quite demon, but a mix of both that has never been seen before."

"And a mix that will never be seen again." Her lovers replied, their voices so bland and dull that one would have just thought from hearing them that they were completely unaffected.

She knew, without any metaphysical help but through long hours of just watching them, that that was not true. They didn't like this, any of it. No one could really find out that they had demonic little brothers and not feel _something_, be it disgust or repulsion or fear. But they feared nothing, she knew that and it scared her, because people who are not frightened when faced with anything you can throw at them are not the most careful people, either. And her lovers were careful, but usually only when it came to everyone's safety but their own. She thought that that was the reason they had been together since birth.

Sort of like the gods' way of keeping _them_ safe. Because if they hadn't had the other there with them all of those long, tormented, twisting years, who would have looked out for them? Who would have stopped them from turning their magic against themselves and ending their agony? Who would have dressed their wounds and healed their souls? No, she knew that they had been put together for more than one reason, and that was just one of them. They were soul-twins; that much was obvious to anyone who truly knew either of them, and it was what made their relationship with her possible, what made it function as well as it did.

Because if they didn't know each other so well, if they weren't almost the same person after so many years so forging themselves together in order to save what was left of their souls, then the dark blood in their veins would have driven them to bloodshed over sharing a mate eventually. But Draco hurting Blaise would be like him carving out his own heart and eating it, and Blaise hurting Draco would be just the same. Spells and magick and plain, age-old love had molded them into the creatures they were, had tied their spirits together until they had a bond that surpassed simple brotherhood or friendship, one strong enough to let them love her just as much.

So no, you didn't get one without the other, but then, how could you and who would want to? One would be nothing more than a wraith without it's other half, just as Fred would be lost and broken without George. Both had sunken claws and teeth into her soul, and she'd long ago given her heart freely to each. Their love for her had grown over the months until it shone as clearly in them as their love for each other, and she knew no greater gift that she could have been given by god or man alike. She would do anything for them, even if she had to save them from themselves. And seeing the looks on their faces then, she realized that she might need to.

"So you think."

The imposters' voices brought her out of her thoughts and back to the blood-soaked field and the rushing figures that swarmed around them on all sides, bleeding and crying and dying. Voldemort took a step forward, something glittered on his chest, and both of her lovers' eyes narrowed in on whatever had just sparkled in the moonlight. Then Blaise hissed and Draco stiffened, and she looked harder. It was one of their amulets. How the fuck had he gotten that? When they'd done the spell to make them unbreakable after Pansy's abduction, they had also made them impossible to remove from anyone that was unwilling to hand the piece of jewelry over.

"Ah." Voldemort hummed, as if he knew exactly what had drawn their attention. "Curious, are you?"

"Who gave that to you?" Draco inquired, and she knew how hard it was for him not to attack and be done with it.

The Marks were still shut, but somehow, she was still able to read their emotions as if they weren't. It was weaker, but working all the same, and she suddenly seemed to understand; it was like a sort of enlightenment. They had forged their own soul-ties during their time together, ties that were overshadowed by the Marks most of the time but there all the same. As soulmates it was expected, but with the Marks, they'd never thought to check and see if they had. She knew now, though, and she knew something else. She was almost positive where that pendant had come from, and it was her fault that Voldemort had been able to get it.

"Hermione." She said aloud before she'd even considered moving her lips, and the soft, dangerous smile that lit up Voldemort's face was all the confirmation that they needed. Her lovers turned their attention to her even though they kept their eyes on the enemy, and even that new (yet somehow old) part of her couldn't stop her from feeling guilty, because it felt guilty too, but in a way that had more to do with oaths and allegiance than love and affection, although that was there as well.

"What?" They both asked, and she knew they asked more than one question with that single word. Like, '_how_ _did_ Hermione _get one of our amulets?_', and '_how the hell do you know that?_', and she didn't want to answer either, because it made her feel slightly nauseous, as if she'd betrayed their trust even though she knew that she hadn't and never would. But paranoia was paranoia, and without the Marks open, she couldn't stop it.

"It's Hermione's amulet." She said with certainty, trying to keep her voice even. Had that odd part of her not been as embarrassed as she was, it would have kept her arrogant and sure of herself. But it was, and both halves of her were waiting for the looks she knew she would receive when she explained, but there was no preparing for it. All she knew was that if they looked at her the way that she'd seen Blaise look at his mother that day at the Manor, as if they'd never seen her before and didn't like what they _were_ seeing at all, she knew that her heart would probably shatter on the spot.

"And why," Draco asked ever-so-slowly, "would that mudblooded whore have had one of those?" So much meaning in a single sentence. Her lungs clenching, she took a deep breath even though she had no real use for breathing besides simple pleasure in the act anymore, but there was no pleasure in that long, indrawn breath. Her decision on the matter had complicated things horribly, because with that amulet, Voldemort had just gained more protection from their power than she even wanted to think about. And if she blamed herself this badly, what would they do?

"Because I gave her one." She left Padma out of it, since there was no reason to drag her into this mess, too. They looked at her, only briefly, as if she'd sprouted a second head, but the look changed into something that she hadn't expected before they turned their eyes back to the others. Understanding.

"You still trust too easily." They said neutrally, but there was no condemnation in their voices, and she was more grateful than she could say. It was a pardon, of sorts, their way of letting her know that they did not blame her. And with that release of guilt, all of her arrogance and determination came back threefold.

"You do not care that her foolishness will keep you from killing me? You have made these charms quite powerful, and though you could break through them if they were worn by someone weaker, I am not weak." Voldemort said, the slightest trace of disbelief in his words, and they simply stared at him a moment before replying.

"No."

"Then you are fools as well." Voldemort stated, and the clones to either side of him grinned cruelly in agreement.

"We shall see."

And then, without any warning what so ever, her lovers threw the Marks open and attacked. The link stretched wide, and she could feel Padma and the twins, could feel them fighting their own battle and moving closer to them at the same time, and she could distantly feel Pansy and Anton through the new ties they'd begun forging with them and through the rings. Like a siren's call, Draco and Blaise's release of dark magick was like an irresistible beacon to them, and all five came towards it like drowning victims that needed air desperately. The suddenness of the attack actually caught the others off guard, and all three Dark Lords fell.

But they were not eaten up by the dark flames like anyone else would have been. Instead, they threw them off after a moment and rose, calling on their own power. Then the look-alikes were airborne, Draco's going for Blaise and Blaise's going for Draco. She didn't have time to wonder at that, though, because Voldemort's attention was all for her. Meeting his eyes, she saw how badly he craved revenge for her poisoning, for her insolence. Draco and Blaise were both fully occupied, and she knew that she was on her own for this one. As soon as she thought it, it was as if she could _feel_ the wheel of fate turn ever-so-slightly.

He came at her fast and hard and she threw up one hand, not to block him with magick, but to catch the fist aimed at her face. As soon as she had it, she kicked out with one leg and twisted sideways and to the ground, dragging him down with her. Her boot knife was in her hand and in his stomach seconds later, and she heard his hiss of pain before she felt an answering stab to her own abdomen. Adrenaline rushing through her, she opened herself up to that divine rage that had been waiting for her to acknowledge it and set it free, and she was suddenly looking through a different pair of eyes; her Lord's own.

She saw Him locked into battle with Zeus, felt Him wondering if He had the power to beat a High King, and felt His brief shock when it was easier than He'd ever imagined. Zeus crumpled before Him and became the first to fall from the sky and hit the battlefield before bursting apart as if He'd exploded. She felt the aftermath from both her own body and from her Lord's, felt His attention turning as Jupiter came at Him. Then she was herself again, His power cloaking her like a familiar second skin, and not three seconds had passed in reality. The earth was still shaking from Zeus's impact, and Voldemort had been knocked away from her with it.

She knew that the High King wasn't dead, but He was vanquished all the same, and that vanquishing gave her Lord power, which in turn gave His Chosen power. That power healed the wound in her stomach in seconds instead of the usual minute or two since it had been made with pure silver, and that power pulled her to her feet again and gave her the speed to block Voldemort's next, rushing attack. Instinct chose the wall of flames, and instinct saved her when he went right through them thanks to that damned amulet. She had just enough time to throw herself backwards before he would have crashed into her.

She watched him soar right over her as if in slow motion, and she seemed to have all of the time in the world to reach out with one hand and gut him. But he seemed to have all of the time in the world as well, and she only got one claw to slice through him before he flipped sideways mid-movement. And, she realized with a start, he'd gotten her, too. A long cut wound down her face from her temple to her chin, and the sudden flare of pain brought with it a burning fury. That other part of her that had been mostly in the background rushed forward and fit around and inside of her soul as if it had always been meant to do so, and she screamed.

Her lovers echoed her, and she wondered if they were experiencing the same thing. The tingling Marks told her that yes, they definitely were. Their sudden shouts threw the others briefly off track, and they all attacked simultaneously. They moved as one, thought as one, and they'd done so before by opening the link so wide, but it had never been as perfect and flowing and unconscious. She felt her claws rip into the side of Voldemort's face at the same time that theirs ripped into those faces that looked so very much like the other's, but for the eyes. As one, they lashed out again and knocked their opponents to the slushy ground.

Leaping on top of hers, she wrapped one hand in all of Voldemort's dark hair and pulled up at the same time that she brought her fist down. Bone slammed into bone and she felt his give underneath hers, saw his lip burst open and heard his jaw break. His own shot out a second later and got her in the side of the throat, but she wasn't concerned about that. She was concerned about her boyfriends just discovering that their look-alikes each had one of their amulets, too. _That_ she had nothing to do with, but it didn't stop it from being a very, very bad thing. If their Elemental magic wouldn't work, then that cut them off from half of their options.

And fighting darkfire and hellfire with darkfire and hellfire was never a wise idea. She saw their future narrow down as Voldemort threw her off of him and hit her again, saw them run out of choices, saw their defeat, and all because of objects that they'd made to protect ones they'd trusted. But the betrayal of that trust, the willing hands that had handed over their destruction, had just signed their death warrant. She felt her boyfriends acknowledge that fact, and their fighting grew all the fiercer for it. But hers didn't. The rage actually died away, replaced by an eerie calm that burned as hot as her anger had.

With one decisive kick, she knocked Voldemort a few feet away and grasped her opportunity for all it was worth. She had no idea if it would work, she had no idea what would happen if it did, but she knew that she was out of options, because she could feel her Lord, and He was surrounded and trapped, unable to help her. The High Kings of Heaven, but for Dagda, had teamed up on Him when they'd seen Him cast Zeus from the sky, and He couldn't fight them all at once. The Dark Kings were embroiled in fights of their own, and could not aid Him. That really left them with only one choice, and she felt the Isisian Charm slide from underneath her skin.

"I wish for the Lady, I wish for Twilight's Pride!" She whispered desperately as she threw a third of the charm at the ground, and the hard metal shattered when it hit not because the ground was hard, but because her wish had been made.

There was a ferocious scream from above her, divine and fearsome, and she turned her eyes to the sky just in time to see Isis cast down one of the traitor gods as she began to glow more brightly than before. Then the world was spinning, shifting, and Virginia was not on the battlefield, but in a place of no light and no sound that had become too familiar to her for her not to know where she was. The void. And then the darkness around her changed, moved, and she felt the brush of the Lady for the first time in months, since She'd first submerged Herself. It was rapture, ecstasy, and she cried out wordlessly in entreaty.

"You have a choice." That purring voice said, getting straight to the point, as if She knew that even where they were, they didn't have much time. "Many paths lay ahead of you right now, paths I have told you about in parts before and that you have Seen yourself. Time and destiny collide and rush forward like never before, and it is time for the First Born to decide the future once more."

"The First Born?" She managed to choke out, and a laugh like silky velvet slid over her skin, if she even _had_ skin where she was.

"You, my child, you and your lovers and your forth. Touched by deity at your births, touched by _me_. As the Fake Ones were marked with demon spirit, you and yours were marked with mine. Many visions show themselves to me, and I knew there was something special about you four, something that called to me. Through my touch, you _are_ First Born, the first among your people for much too long."

"What Draco said that day on the pitch…" Virginia thought to herself, but thoughts were turned into words in this place, and the Lady heard her as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud.

"Yes. He knew not why he spoke such a thing, only that it was true. But now, now you must make your decision, just as they must make theirs. And so must she." With that last word, Padma appeared next to her, suspended in the living darkness of the Lady, her eyes shining with the same bliss that Virginia felt.

"What decision, my lady?"

"I can give you the power to destroy your enemies. I can give you the key to your success. But everything comes with a price, and yours will be an eternal one." She told them gently, yet firmly, and they stayed perfectly still as She continued speaking. "I took Cocidius as my Consort, but that will change this day if you accept your true fate. He will not simply be that to me anymore, and with that change, you will be accessible to me in ways that weren't possible before. The four of you will be _my_ Chosen as well."

"Y-Yours, my lady?" They asked, and that laugh wrapped around them like an embrace.

"Yes, mine. Mine and his. But you two, because you are female, can commune with me in ways that the two princes cannot, the same way that their connection with Cocidius is a bit deeper than yours due to their sex. You can become my vessels, my eyes and ears and hands on earth. You can become my living representation, my voice and my true children. But the price is that you will never be free of it. You will walk the earth until the day that it ends, until the day that the planet finally dies and there is no more life left for you to look after. Only then can I call you home, only then may you Pass."

Her addictive voice drifted off into nothing, leaving Virginia and Padma with their thoughts. Did they want that life? Eternity in concept was one thing, but the Lady spoke of eons and eons of walking the Shadow Realm, eons and eons of watching those they grew to care for grow old and die again and again, and there would be no escape. But…Draco and Blaise's faces drifted through her mind, and eternity suddenly didn't seem nearly so horrible. She felt Padma having the same thoughts, but the faces in _her_ mind were different, different and _very_ familiar, framed by red hair and splattered with a light brushing of freckles across alabaster skin.

"We will serve." They said together, and as the words left their lips, they seemed so right that both parts of them cried out with joy. The Lady actually howled, a thrumming, primal sound that they felt to their cores, and Her next words were so pleased that they almost brought them to orgasm just hearing them.

"Then embrace yourselves, my beloved stars, embrace both halves of what you are and know true Sight."

They did as She said, how could they not? And as soon as those two halves truly melded together, they did See. They Saw the past, the present and the future; they saw all and nothing. It was like a slideshow started in their minds, and she could feel that neither she nor Padma had expected what they were Seeing. They Saw the six of them together, many, many times before this life. Saw them standing side by side in cities long fallen to dust. Saw them unleashing the elements on an enemy horde millennia ago. Saw them covered from head to foot in blood and gore, leading an army that ripped its way through an invading civilization that history knew nothing of.

There were flashes of battle and peace in so many different places and on so many different worlds that they couldn't begin to keep track of it all. They knew the memories were accessible when needed, however, and it gave them both a sense of comfort. Then they Saw the twins, just the twins, Saw them fighting for them time and time again, and they always healed them afterwards, loved them and soothed the pain when the death and slaughter began to weigh on their souls. And they knew why the twins fought for them, why they had been created for it before time began. They knew why it had been so important to Cocidius that they Mark them, now.

Because their power, their true, unleashed power, Elemental and Dark alike, where they held nothing back, could heal a world...or destroy it. It was a fine line that they walked, and the twins did everything in their power to ease the burden, just as the four of them eased theirs. They were as much a part of them as they were of each other, and had been from the very beginning. Then, as the centuries and millennia sped past and they watched themselves change and die and live again and again, two more shadows joined with theirs, making them eight and whole in an entirely new way. She caught a glimpse of their eyes, of honey and hazel, and she knew them instantly. Pansy and Anton.

No wonder they'd been drawn so strongly to bond with them through magick the last few months. Then the images picked up speed, and they were nothing more than a blur for a long moment, messy and smeared together. Then, like a window being wiped free of mud, they Saw clearly again. They Saw Fred kneeling over Padma and shielding her unconscious form while Pansy distracted Parvati, they Saw George shielding Virginia while Anton dueled the Dark Lord. They Saw Draco and Blaise, Saw them falter as some sort of divine illusion grabbed a hold of them and made the leathery wings of their opponents morph into feathers before their eyes.

Blue and silver turned crimson and black-ringed to match theirs, and with the illusion came confusion, confusion spells stronger than any they'd ever felt before, and suddenly, the one they were cutting up wasn't an enemy, but a beloved. Draco looked down the sword he'd just shoved into the fake Blaise's chest as if it had come alive and bit him, while Blaise's eyes were glued to the gaping wound in the fake Draco's throat that he'd just made. They fought the magick even though they couldn't feel it at work on them, fought it because they could _not_ believe what they were seeing to be true, fought it because there would be no return from madness for them if it were.

They reached out for her for confirmation, reached out for her so that she could tell them they hadn't just landed lethal blows to one another instead of their counterparts. But she was not there, she was with the Lady and unreachable, but they didn't know that. They just knew that her body was empty, and both stopped fighting the confusion spells immediately when they thought of what that must mean. She watched them start to sink to the ground, watching the glow from their skin start to die and fade, and she screamed against it, tried to reach out to them, but the last thing she Saw as the image changed again was the internal agony in their eyes.

Then she was staring at herself, and realized that she was looking into a mirror. But it wasn't really her, just the 'her' in the vision, and when it pulled back a bit, she would have gasped had she been able to draw breath in the void. For she was clad in a traditional wedding gown, but for the fact that it was midnight black. Her hair looked like spun rubies lying against it, and the veil was a silver so metallic that it looked like spilled mercury. The elaborate runes stitched all over the black cloth like stars were done in the same shocking silver, and her face was glowing with a sense of happiness and utter joy that rocked her to her core and back again.

Then the vision shattered, as if a hammer had slammed into the imagined mirror, and the Lady's voice permeated all.

"You have made your choice. Now come with me, and we shall witness them make theirs. We shall witness a new dawn."

It was like rising and falling all at the same time, like rushing headfirst through a tunnel and not having any idea of where you're going or how to stop. There were no brakes but for the Lady's will, and their trust in Her was complete, or they would have been screaming and panicking at the sense of crushing pressure to either side of them, the sense that if She let them go, they would be dead in seconds. Then they were back in their own bodies, mostly anyway, and she bolted out of George's arms so quickly that he nearly fell back and out of his shield. She burst through it, the Lady's will moving her this way and that.

'_As promised, here is what you need to win._' The Lady said, mind-to-mind, and a moment later, a wild, savage Harry Potter was snapping at her heels like a crazed dog.

He had a collar on and not much else but skimpy, patent leather straps, and there was a clear engraving across the band of gold around his throat. Grabbing him by it and making sure to keep those clacking teeth away from her skin, she nearly dropped him when she read what it said, and then she started laughing. '_Voldemort's Royal Pet_.' Oooh, that was just _too_ much. Still snickering, she drug him with her as she went to her lovers', both of whom were just getting back to their feet, obviously sensing her return, which gave them strength. Feeding Anton and Pansy power through the rings, she gave her boyfriends her full attention.

As soon as her eyes met theirs fully, both shuddered and fell back down. Distantly, she felt Cocidius suddenly convulse, felt the Lady asking something of Him. He said yes to whatever it was, and a second later, His eternal flame burned so brightly that it blinded even the other gods. That _something_ that they'd all felt in the ether, that _something_ that they'd thought had to do with Dagda and a weapon to kill gods, became remarkably clear. It had nothing to do with Dagda, and everything to do with Cocidius. He held a new power in His hands, in His soul, a power that had never before been seen by any, and she knew instinctively what it meant.

_Cocidius_ held the power to truly kill a god. _Cocidius_ held the power of life or death over beings that had never even remotely had to consider that type of fear. But she wasn't the only one to sense the sudden change, and that fear became known to the other deities with a rush. They all fell back from Him in waves, until He stood alone and proud in their center, His face lit with wonder and wisdom. Then she was looking through a different set of eyes at the Lady's prompting, and she felt her lovers leave their bodies as well. She saw their spirits hover before their Lord, saw them kneel and reach for Him. He embraced them, before telling them almost exactly what the Lady had told her.

But there was more.

"But that is not all, precious Chosen." Cocidius's husky voice rolled over them. "For thee knows what blood runs in thy veins, and it is time for thee both to choose that destiny if thee wish it. I will not force it on thee, but the question is this: How far does thy ambition stretch? Does thee wish to rule?"

"Rule, my lord?" Her lovers questioned, and their golden lord gave a slight nod. "Rule what?"

"The Shadow Realm."

Silence. Then, "All of it?"

"Yes. It is thy birthright if thee wishes to claim it."

The world spun and changed yet again, and she was back in her body, her fangs in Harry's neck, his blood filling her mouth. She felt him make his choice, felt him fight the Bane enough to scream '_Yes!_' inside her head loud enough to hurt. Everything after that happened so quickly that it was blurred, yet as clear as day. She passed him to her lovers, who filled their mouths as well, and they passed him to Padma, who was just suddenly _there_. Moving not just of their own accord but also of their masters', they took destiny by the throat and carved what they wished in it. She was on Voldemort in seconds, her lovers were on their clones, and Padma had taken down Parvati in the blink of an eye.

Lips pressed to lips, the blood of the Needed One thick on their tongues, his choice made it deadly with the power of foretelling. It reminded her of the last poisoned kiss they had shared, but this time she shoved her power and her Lord's and Lady's in after it, shoved it down and down until she felt it ripping into the shriveled thing he passed off as a heart. Half of her stayed there, straddling the Dark Lord as she killed him oh-so-slowly, and the other half rode in Cocidius as He moved from His isolation in a blast of energy, going straight for Dagda. The tainted god tried to ward Him off, tried to slow Him, but it was useless.

Divine hands wrapped around divine flesh, and Cocidius sucked the energy straight out of Him, sucked it out through His hands and into His skin. But it wasn't enough, wasn't _close_ enough, and His lips met Dagda's and brought Him His doom. Dagda and His Chosen screamed and screamed as they died, and the two that were tied to demons tried to use those ties, calling up the lower demons as one would call an old friend or a lover. But Draco countered them, setting free the demon mark on his hand that was usually concealed by glamour spells, and she felt the Deep Lord that owed him respond to the summons, felt it rein in those that would have come to try and free them and that would have wreaked utter havoc in the process.

Voldemort convulsed underneath her, the last of his life pouring into her, and through her, into her lovers, Padma, Cocidius and the Lady. She could feel the energy of the ones that they were draining as well, and she reveled in the power, reveled in the unimagined strength that filled them until they felt as though they would burst. Then Cocidius reached up, just before the last of Dagda slipped away inside Him, and ripped the High Crown from His head. The sky screamed and the earth split underneath their feet, Voldemort slumped lifelessly beneath her, and the Dark Royals roared in triumph. And she felt something growing inside her.

It was like a huge, hot wave of flames, flames that couldn't be quenched. She found herself next to the other three who completed her suddenly, and then the four that completed them. All eight joined their minds, joined the power of their rings, and together, they knew what to do. The power rushed out from them like an explosion, widening and widening like the ripples on the surface a pond when a rock is thrown in. It swarmed over everyone on the field, sparing no one, but it didn't stop there. They felt it hit countless numbers of witches and wizards, avoiding muggles, felt it slam into them, washing away corruption and sickness.

And still it rushed out, touching that piece of the old magick inside them and…_connecting_ with it in a way. So many affected, and it took less than two minutes before rushing back to them. It engulfed them again and filled them with power, almost feeding them in a way, tying them ever closer together. They were vibrating with the amount of magick they were holding, and she absently realized that the very earth was trembling. She felt giddy and ethereal, high on a magickal rush unlike any she'd ever experienced, and she felt plugged in to something huge, like she was a tiny dot in the center of a web connected to so many more tiny little dots.

A feeling of unity with all those thousands upon thousands of others engulfed her, a feeling of protectiveness that was shadowed with eternal duty, and she didn't fight the strange binding. Suddenly she realized what the other part of her was, realized that it hadn't just appeared, but that it had been buried inside her until it was time fir it to be released. A mighty roar shattered the heavens, and Dagda burst apart in a shower of ashes that were blackened and smoking. The last of the Bane's influence left the gods and the Death Eaters alike, Dagda's death cementing what hers and the others' strange release of power had started and clearing away the remnants of that foul touch from their hearts and minds.

"All hail Cocidius!" The first round of divine voices shouting that cry brought her back to some semblance of normalcy, and she watched wordlessly as her Lord was given a wide berth again, but this time out of respect and awe rather than fear, although that was still there, too.

"_All hail Cocidius!_" Again, the cry was taken up, that time with even more vigor, and the all the gods, but for the Kings and Queens, fell to their knees in the air, one by one, and with them fell the humans and dark creatures that stared up towards the sky in astonishment.

She could feel that they were still all connected by that invisible web, an invisible web that spanned the planet, connecting witch to wizard to witch to wizard in a way not felt in ages. Then, in a move that stunned even her Lord but surprised the Lady not at all, the three remaining Kings of Heaven strode forward, Jupiter and Odin and Amun-Ra, and they kneeled at Cocidius's feet with Heaven's High Queens beside them. The High Royals had _never_ kneeled, and doing so meant that they considered themselves lower, weaker, and it was utterly unheard-of. Then, in a fluttering of sweeping black wings, Lucifer was there and shining in all of His glory, and the sun crested the horizon the slightest bit behind Him.

"Let us be one Court, one Kingdom, as we were always meant to be!" He cried in that voice that could seduce the coldest heart and then break it just as easily. "All hail Cocidius, High King of Heaven and Hell!"

"All hail Cocidius, High King of Heaven and Hell!" The other gods chorused, and the Dark Royals dropped to their knees as Lucifer did, until every deity in the sky was spread out at her Lord's feet.

Goosebumps spread over her skin, and with a rushing force, the Lady appeared in the air high above them, more felt than seen. It was as if the night sky had solidified and taken shape, and ripples of Her presence ran out through the ether so strongly that even the mortals felt it and recognized it. They went from their knees to their faces in seconds, Her majesty sweeping over gods and men and creatures that were neither or both. Draco and Blaise took to the air, shooting up until they were perched on a fallen giant, and they turned their faces skyward as if hearing a silent call. Cocidius turned His attention to them, and His voice reached every corner of the frozen field, traveled along that invisible web, and every person with magic in their veins heard His words, _felt_ His words.

"Thy Sovereigns were stolen from thee long ago, but I return them to thee! The First Born walk the Realm again, and they will rule thee all! Behold my Chosen, my children, my voice on earth! _Behold thy High Kings_!" His voice swept out around and through them, rose the worship in them until it was nearly unbearable, and when He pulled it back, her lovers were high in the air and spinning, their bodies fractured with dark light as if they had so much inside of them that they couldn't keep it all inside.

"All hail the High Kings of the Shadow Realm!" Two voices cried, and she only recognized them for her own and Padma's after she had stopped speaking. Thousands upon thousands of voices echoed hers, and the words rose and fell like a hymn all over the field and through that mystical web.

She felt their rebirth, of sorts, felt Cocidius fill them with the stolen power of the four Dark Lords until it melded with their own and made them into something new, something different, and something much more deadly. They were Dark Lords and Elementals, a mix that shouldn't have been possible, and they were something else as well. _Kings_, her mind whispered to her in a low, sultry whisper, _your lords and your loves_. Then the Lady was there, filling her as never before, and everyone near her and Padma started backing away, their eyes torn between them and her lovers. A word slid through her mind, a name for what they were. Her boyfriends could go Godridden. But they were Ladyridden.

They felt Her start to move, felt Her swirl down and down until She stood before Cocidius, nothing but shifting shadows to mortal eyes, even though the mortals could feel what and who She was. And Virginia and Padma rose as She fell, until they practically floated in the air before Draco and Blaise, who had stopped their mad spinning and watched them with feral, imperial eyes. They knew not what they were doing until, wonder of wonders, they felt the Lady, the Pride of Twilight and the Mistress of the Void, drop to Her own knees before Cocidius and bow Her noble head. They mimicked Her immediately, falling to theirs gracefully before their High Kings, and Cocidius's surprise and shock hit them hard.

"Rise, Lady, for you need never kneel." Cocidius said, holding out a hand to all of those shadows unflinchingly. And Virginia knew, then, why the Lady loved her Lord. It was because He'd never flinched away from Her, never turned in fear from all of Her darkness. He loved Her, and She loved Him, and She would be His Queen, taking the place that had always been reserved for Her.

"As the Kings are your voice and mind in this Realm, I have chosen mine as well." The Lady said, and had anyone been able to find the sentience to speak, they would have fallen silent. As it was, no one could talk yet anyway. "Wind and Water, Ice and Lightning, they have agreed to become what they were born to be. And so have Fire and Earth, Flame and Gravity. They will be my High Priestesses, the first Night Brides to walk this Realm since the last Shadow Kings fell." Her words had barely died when Draco and Blaise pulled Virginia and Padma to their feet, and it was _their_ voices that broke the silence that time, that acknowledged the parts of Virginia and Padma that they had only recognized themselves minutes before.

"All hail the Night Brides, beloved of the Dark Lady!"

Virginia and Padma echoed them with their own cry, and a mixture of both was shouted back to them from every throat, from every pair of lips.

"All hail the Shadow Kings, beloved of Cocidius!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Well, there you go! The last installment of this story will be posted a week or so from now, so watch for it! Thank you all so much for reading this story, and **pleasepleaseplease review**!


	31. Epilogue::Timeless

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?

French translations: ((example))

**Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore**, ah, my queen, you should really, really like this one. (grins cheekily)** Cloaked**, I love you! That was a drool-worthy review! (bows at your feet)** Catalina Royce**, nothing you say is ever 'babbling'! you know I love you!** Cougar**, hey, your email addy only came through with the first part, so I guessed it was hotmail and sent it, so I don't know if you got it or not!** SkotosEnigma**, hello goddess! I hope photoshop starts working soon, and thank you!!** sillysun**, THANK YOU!!!!** me**, hello, great one! loved the review, love you!** kia**, sorry, but this one is really long to make up for how long it took! **VirginVixen-666**, thanks you so much! **andrea**, thanks you!! **Serena**, I would never leave you hanging! thanks! **Meryl12**, the only things I think are worth fighting for are fictional, so don't feel bad! **sexyjunkie**, yes, I do have a LJ called 'All Things Demented'. :) **EvaYasha**, thanks!! **Jack Robinson**, thanks, and I've said a million times that I suck at French! **a:Sam**, thank you!! **Athena-Quicksilver**, if they do, I will be sure to send you a s'more, lol! **Psycho-child-101**, I'm working on getting someone to, as I've said a billion times that I suck, but you're more than welcome to. :) **bigreader**, of course they're eternal too! How could they not be?? lol **el chikita joules**, yes, I write it, lol. Thanks! **jade idolatry**, yes, I'm perfectly aware of that. **AnitaBlake/BuffyFan**, I'm really glad you liked it!! thanks! **madcow**, (takes deep breath) thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!!! **Wicked Not Evil**, (grants your wish) Thanks! **Georgentosser**, (still awaiting friend's pic) Love ya!! **quimbytimmons**, as long as you liked it, it's all good! **Icy Lullaby**, THANKS! **mandabella**, it's okay, we'll just have to find you a new addiction, lol. **otaku sae**, thank you so much, that means a lot to me! **im no muggle**, hope you like this, and hurry and post on your own story! lol **angelfire33**, love ya! **Sunday-Morning**, thank you soooooo much, you're the best! **dancingirl**, hope you have enough paper and ink for that! **DragonSpitfire22**, thanks! **afici0nada**, thank you a million times over! hope you enjoy! **Tytianne**, your question is answered in here, lol. thanks! **power of the stars**, you're welcome! love ya! **aoi-yuki-yume**, thanks, and I hope that you like this one!! **Lisa**, thank you!! **Lithui**, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! I just LOVE you! **coffeechick87**, I know this took a little longer, but it's really long to make up for it! enjoy! **Ludra**, thank you! you're awesome! **TarynMalfoy88**, I hope it is, lol! love ya! **Pyro89**, thanks, and I would if I could! **Fallen**, thanks! I'm so blushing right now! I love you! **Psi**, thanks! **Tom4ever**, I love you, too! Hope you like this one as much as the others!

Okay, now onto the last chappie…

**…………………………………………………………………………………………………**

**Fifteen Years and Eleven Months Later…**

**January 14th, 2014**

Virginia ran her finger underneath another sentence on the page of the ancient Book in her lap, about four seconds away from snarling and ripping handfuls of her hair out. She'd been looking for a spell that would do what she needed for what seemed like forever, and she was growing mightily impatient. The Lady had stayed resolutely silent about the whole affair, and Virginia got the feeling that She was quite amused with the entire situation. Oh, yes, because it was just _so bloody funny_, wasn't it? Abandoning the Book of the Ever After, she stood and started pacing the floor of the small room to the side of the main library that she was currently barricaded in.

She'd come there since she knew that the others would look for her just about everywhere but in the chain of little soundproofed rooms that traveling scholars and such used to study the texts kept within their halls. And why would they? She had plenty of larger, more comfortable places to go and read. But she needed the privacy, because if she couldn't find what she was looking for, then she sure as fuck didn't want anyone else to get wind of it and start premature rumors. She could just _see_ the looks on Draco and Blaise's faces if someone went to the Throne Room with _that_ bit of information spilling from their lips.

And the seven witches right outside the door would most certainly run tattling to them if they knew what she was doing. She hadn't seen why she needed ladies-in-waiting, but her station demanded it by the Old Laws, and she hadn't really had a choice in the end. It was to promote better unity among the nobles of the Court and the Royals, not like they needed it, but tradition was tradition, and the nobles had latched onto that particular custom like rabid wolves. So the youngest daughters of some of the more important families had been sent and sworn into her service, and she knew that she was close to snapping.

Every seven years the girls were exchanged for new ones, and the first two groups hadn't been half-bad. She'd actually become partial friends with a few of them, and she'd tolerated the others well enough. But this latest group was a bunch of sniveling, drooling, brainless brats. _Or_, the nasty little voice in the back of her mind intoned, _you just don't like them because every one of them is besotted with your lovers. _Okay, so maybe that had something to do with it. But who could blame her? She was just _waiting_ for one of them to step out of line, to let the desire that she could smell spill into their eyes, to verbally acknowledge it in any way. Because then they would die.

But they all knew better than that after the first girl had been replaced. The cute little brunette that was a blood cousin of Blaise's. The cute little brunette who'd thought that he might be into a little incest if she could flaunt her charms appealingly enough. The cute little brunette that they'd had to scrape off of the marble floor after Virginia had walked in just in time to see her kiss him, just in time to see Draco rip her off and one of the Ezutîël backhand her, just in time to see Blaise wiping off his lips, which had been smeared with the bright pink mush that she'd caked onto her mouth. Virginia's fury had been anything but pretty.

But it had taught the new ladies-in-waiting a valuable lesson that the rest of the Court had learned long ago, and they did nothing to oppose or challenge her in any way. She thought it ironic that the people loved her but her own maids despised her, and all because they wanted something that they could never have. Well, _two_ somethings. But she couldn't protest unless they fucked up outright, since Padma put up with her own as well, and Draco and Blaise had each taken a squire into their care, tutoring them in everything from spellwork to weapons. So yes, she was very glad for her privacy, and could only pray that no one saw her maids shuffling around outside.

Slamming one fist into the wall hard enough to make it hurt, she glared at the Book that was lying so innocently on the floor as if it were her immortal enemy. She'd combed through it thoroughly, but its pages were always shifting and changing, so then she'd searched every library worth searching for the last six years and found nothing that could help her. Now she was back to point A again, because she simply didn't know where else to look, and with the Lady being so stubborn, she was out of options. Cocidius couldn't help her either, as the kind of magick that she was looking for was the one kind that he had no power over.

Her lovers couldn't aid her for the same reason, not that she would have asked them anyway, since it would have defeated the purpose in the first place. The element of surprise would be crucial, because their true feelings would only come into play without any shielding or masks if she timed it just right. Which she would. If she could ever find a spell or charm that would actually _work_, that is. She was almost to the point of breaking and ruining the surprise for Padma and Pansy as well just to get some help, and decided that she would do just that. She would hunt them down and force them to get a welter of paper cuts with her, damn it.

But only after she tried one more time.

Call her stubborn, but she had looked _every-fucking-where_, and it was personal now. Ending her staring contest with the Book, she pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and stomped back over to it, flinging herself on the ground and once more glaring at it moodily. _Stupid thing_, she cursed silently, and then immediately felt more than a little silly for taking her frustration out on a book, and a book that had helped her numerous times, at that. Picking it up again and once more placing it in her lap, she held her hand over it and willed it to show her what she wanted. The pages fluttered randomly, before settling again and causing her to groan.

What was _wrong_ with it? Why did it keep showing her things like '_How to Control the Undead_' when she hadn't even thought of anything like that? She knew how to raise a zombie, thank you very much, and the Book _knew_ that. Starting to think that the Fates were either completely against her or sitting in their spinning room laughing heartily at her, she growled and gripped the Book tighter. Flames spread over her skin and then over the Book, and she pulled back abruptly. What the hell? She hadn't lost control like that in _years_. Checking to make sure that she hadn't harmed the artifact, she nearly bit her tongue when the crackling fire sunk into the parchment.

Staring, she watched wordlessly as the pages started moving on their own, fluttering this way and that as if moved by an unseen wind. Then they froze, and her heart was in her throat as she waited for the familiar green scrawl to appear. But it didn't, and she sucked in a breath. Only the darkest spells in the Book did that, and she knew what was needed. Digging her thumbnail into her middle finger, she let four drops of blood fall onto the empty page. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, they sunk into it just as her flames had, and words _did_ appear then. Her eyes racing over them, disbelief and joy almost choked her, but not enough to stop her scream of triumph.

Leaping to her feet once more, the Book still in her hands, she closed it carefully, this time treating it like a beloved friend, knowing that the page would show itself to her later since she'd seen it once. Not that she needed to see it again. Every word was stored in her mind permantly. What had Lycelle called it? A photographic memory? But no matter, she had found what she needed, and she would start the potion right away. It took a week to brew, and it would take her another two days to recover. But then…But then she would drink it and do what needed doing, and the next week of exhaustion and pain would be worth it.

Oh yes, it would be _more_ than worth it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**January 25th**

The crystal vial in Virginia's hands shattered on the porcelain tile underneath her feet as she stumbled backwards and barely caught herself on the courtyard wall, shocked senseless. It had worked! It had really, really worked! Six years of searching and hoping and praying, and the potion had worked! _Oh gods_, she thought wildly, _I think I'm going to faint_. Her vision started swimming and she slid bonelessly down the wall a second before her guards were rushing over the courtyard walls as they felt her distress. But it wasn't really distress, or at least not any kind that they could help her with, and they seemed to sense that as they surrounded her.

"Lady? My lady, what ails you?" Xejime asked, throwing back his hood and revealing a head of white hair, his fangs flashing briefly and his forever-youthful features clouded with concern and apprehension. She shook her head, unable to speak so much as a word. Nothing was _ailing_ her; in fact, she felt absolutely wonderful, but it was an utterly stunned wonderful.

"My lady!" That from one of the others, Imramee, who also threw her hood back, her kitty-cat eyes turning a vibrant greenish-yellow when Virginia couldn't answer them. "Have you had a vision?" She shook her head again.

"Go get Padma." Xejime ordered another, and the hooded vampire was gone in moments as if it had never even been there.

The other six stayed huddled around her, trying to find out what was wrong with her since she had no wounds or any other problems that they could see or smell. She had no idea how much time had passed before Padma, Pansy and Anton rushed out of hers and her lovers' bedroom doors and into their private courtyard, their own guards flanking them like dark ghosts. Two of the Ezutîël were with them as well, and they were at her side in seconds, her guards parting to make room for them. Padma's hand was on her forehead a moment later, Pansy was running hands over her shoulders and down her sides, and both huffed in exasperation while Anton just looked at her.

"You're shielding too tightly for us to sense anything, Virginia." Padma said in her soft, soothing voice. "Bring them down and let us see what's wrong, hmm?"

But apparently, Virginia was more shocked than she knew, because she simply couldn't remember how. Everything but the knowledge that her spell had worked had completely vanished from her mind, that and what she herself could sense within her now. It was earth-shattering and remarkable, and she still couldn't believe it even though she could _feel_ it. It was only when their panic spiked and they decided to send for Draco and Blaise, who had left that morning for a few international meetings, that she tried to fight her mental dizziness enough to stop them. It was harder than it sounded, though, and it took quite a few tries before she managed to wrap her hand in Anton's robe tightly as he rose to go get them.

"No."

Her refusal surprised them, she knew that much, but how could she explain it? How could she explain why they _couldn't_? It would ruin a large part of her plan, and there were no second chances with this. It had to be done right the first time, or the vision that she'd had all of those years ago would come to fruition and her lovers would never fully heal the last of their soul-wounds. She had seen the complete memory of what had happened the night their fathers had died, and knew that she would again that night. That last piece of the puzzle is what had given her an idea on how to heal them, is what had driven her to years of endless searching.

And if she could follow through with the rest of it correctly, if they could accept what she offered them, then she knew that the true healing would finally begin. But if she couldn't, or if they didn't, then they would never heal, and the wound would fester even farther until it was a constant agony, their sires' final revenge. It would drive them both mad eventually, and with their degradation, the entire world would fall with them into sickening shadows and corrupt perversion. They were the Shadow Kings, and their well-being was the world's well-being. Their mental deterioration would affect all that lived within their Realm.

It could be years before that happened, or it could be days. The vision hadn't been time-specific; it had only shown her the two choices spread before them, a fork in their fated paths. And there were only two people that could shield the earth from them and their lunacy should that dreaded choice be the one made. Her and Padma. But she knew, on some level that had nothing at all to do with visions and everything to do with love, that should they be corrupted, she would follow them. She would follow them _anywhere_, even down into the farthest reaches of evil and debasement, no matter what the cost to her soul.

They had told her once that should she ever fall into such disgrace, should she ever wish to rule with cruelty instead of the dark justice they currently used, that they would break the world and its people in a heartbeat for her pleasure. Love twists things, twists people, and it can make the strongest of their kind bow before it willingly. It can make the best among them do things that they would never usually do, and they knew, as did she, that should their beloveds become tainted, they would be unable to stop them, unable to do anything but follow them no matter where they led. So the question was, would Padma follow too?

Virginia wasn't completely sure, but she was sure enough that she would bet heavily on it. The twins would, of course, they wouldn't really have a choice, and even should Padma hesitate in the beginning, their turning would force her into it as well. There was that love factor again. But truthfully, Virginia doubted that they would succumb before Padma, because the Marks were tricky things, and she loved the three of them as well. Pansy and Anton would be the next to fall and the rest of the Court would follow, then the minor lords and ladies, then the rest of the purebloods, then the halfbloods, the mudbloods, the Squibs…

So her only hope, the earth's only hope, was for her plan to work.

"No." Her voice was stronger that time, and she straightened up as she drew herself together.

"But Virginia, if they find out about this and that we said nothing…"

"I said no! Will you defy a direct order?" Silence. "I thought not." Rising to her feet and pushing away their grasping hands, she gave the guards a healthy glare. "Leave us."

They did not argue, as they all knew her too well not to recognize the steel in her voice and eyes, and they disappeared back to their stations all around the bedroom and courtyard. Padma, Pansy and Anton were all waiting patiently for her to explain her odd behavior, and she motioned for them to follow her to one of the benches. They sat while she paced back and forth, and they were silent for a long time, waiting for her to speak. Funny how with all of the planning that she had done, she hadn't thought of what she would tell her friends when the time came. And seeing as how she couldn't walk around constantly shielding forever, the time had most certainly come.

"Okay." She let her breath out in a sigh, and couldn't stop a goofy, euphoric grin from spreading across her face.

"You're starting to scare us." Pansy commented, her voice dull but her eyes watchful and worried.

Virginia stopped her sporadic pacing and stood in front of them, her eyes drinking in the features of her closest friends as she tried to imagine what their reactions would be. They (and the twins, of course) knew her better than anyone except for her lovers. She trusted few these days, and even that trust was always shadowed by doubt. Once you had seen as much betrayal as she had, and to such degrees, you couldn't help but become paranoid and jaded. But there was no doubt with _them_, she had seen into the deepest corners of their minds, and she trusted them not just with her own life, but with the lives of her lovers as well, and that alone spoke volumes.

They had always been there for her, be it for dire emergencies or small, stupid things, like letting her crawl into bed with them when Draco and Blaise were away and she was having nightmares. They had done the same, after all, and no one questioned their odd hours and strange sleeping arrangements. Not that anyone would dare to do so to begin with, and no one besides them, their guards and their immediate families were allowed inside the Royal Wing anyway. But the point was that they had always, _always_ supported her and never laughed at her or shunned her. They would do anything for her, they would _die_ for her, and they had all proven that many times over the years. So…

They had a right to know.

"Don't be scared." She finally replied in a low, sure voice. "Rejoice."

"Rejoice?" Anton questioned, looking puzzled, which was very rare indeed. "Whatever for?" She took a deep breath and let all of her previous tension drain away in favor of the glee that was rising within her until she wanted to raise her voice in song and dance with sheer joy.

"For this." She said, and let her shields drop for them and only them. All three swarmed off of the bench in the blink of an eye, falling to their knees so that they could place hands and cheeks and lips all over her abdomen wonderingly.

"You're pregnant!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**January 29th**

Lycelle threw a last glance in her mirror, making sure that her creamy white robes were in order and that her hair wasn't sticking up. It wouldn't do to be seen disheveled around the Court or the Americans, and she had looked as perfect as possible earlier, but Marcello…He'd always fancied her in these toga-style robes. It wasn't _her_ fault that he hadn't been able to keep his hands to himself. Trying to glare at him as she slid her wand into her pocket, she failed miserably as soon as she saw his prone form, nude and slick with sweat from their…activities, laid out on the silver sheets most invitingly. Shaking her head, she tried to re-focus.

Pansy had come to her the day before with absolutely glorious news, and had actually made her take a blood oath not to speak a word of it. Virginia wanted the happy news kept under wraps, for now at least, and it apparently meant more than just the obvious if they were going to such lengths to keep it a secret. But it was not Lycelle's place to question a command from the Night Bride, and she had taken the oath without any fuss. The only person that she might have told otherwise would have been Marcello, and maybe her acolyte, Damia, but she was content to wait. And Pansy had made another request of her as well.

She, Padma and Anton wished to give Virginia a gift, and one worthy of such an occasion. Padma had remembered something that she'd read about once, a sort-of upgraded version of a Pensieve, and it had been simple enough for her to transform a regular one into what they needed. It was called a Sansieve, and it basically did the same thing as a Pensieve, expect for two major differences. One, the giver didn't lose the memory themselves. And two, whatever person's memory you delved into, you delved into _them_ as well, and you saw everything from their eyes, feeling exactly what they had felt at the time. So they were on a mission for pleasant and meaningful memories.

It was going to look suspicious enough asking everyone that mattered to participate, and therefore, Pansy and the others hadn't thought it wise for them to go to America to talk Draco and Blaise into it. Enter Lycelle. The two High Kings didn't like dealing with her very much due to her status as a High Priestess of the Lady of the Light, that was a widely known fact, but a fact less known was that they usually agreed to whatever she wanted (since she never asked for anything outrageous) just to get her to go away. It wasn't that they disliked _her_, per say, but more like they wanted nothing to do with the Dawn Star in any shape, way or form.

They had teased Marcello constantly when he and Lycelle had first married, asking if he would don robes of white and 'go good and holy' as well, but they had never teased her since they didn't like getting that close. It was a problem for Padma and Virginia as well, since the Ladies were known to…disagree, especially after Twilight's Pride had ascended the Great Throne and become the Queen of All, ruling side by side with Cocidius. So no, they couldn't tolerate Lycelle's presence for long, but they never did anything about it because she was the sister of one of their greatest friends. And now that sister hoped she could pull off the impossible.

"Lycelle? You're going to miss your coach." Marcello's deep voice brought her out of her musings, and she gave him a sheepish smile before hurrying over, kissing him goodbye, and rushing for the door.

She slowed her pace once she was out of the east High Court wing, since she really didn't think that they would leave without her. Sometimes her last name came in quite handy, as did her own status. White Wanderers were not to be overly toyed with, after all, and she was the first that had been Awakened all of those years ago after the Great Battle. She had finally found out why she was so different once Cocidius had shattered the Ban that Dagda had enforced for so long, the Ban that had kept all of the gods, but for Him, from their Chosen for so long. The White Lady had come for her when the blood was still wet upon the ground.

Two more of her kindred had also been Awakened in the years afterwards, a Spanish witch named Nadia and a Texan wizard named, of all things, Tex. Other gods had begun to take Chosen as well, many but not all, since the Call couldn't be forced. For some, it was their time, for others, it was not and they would wait a few more years or decades or centuries until the right Shadow-dwellers _did_ Call to them. A guard at the end of the hall nodded at her as she drew closer to him and a seemingly dead end. But it wasn't a dead end, just one of the clever little portal pads that the Royals had come up with, and all she had to do was speak her destination to be transported.

As long as her destination was within the property's wards, that is. They sure as hell weren't leaving open portals to _anywhere_ lying about. That would be awfully convenient for any would-be assassins; if any even had the balls to try their luck after what Draco had done to the last one that had attempted to kill one of his lovers. That time it had been Blaise, who'd actually let the fool stab him with a poisoned silver blade to the heart just so he could watch the primordial terror surface in the wizard's eyes when he'd seen that he hadn't so much as flinched, let alone died. The entire Court had been in attendance that day, and all had seen the man meet his end.

It had been quite gruesome, and while Draco was busy showing the wizard how people really _could_ be turned inside out and still manage to scream if enough magick was applied, Virginia and Padma had been sweeping the room, probing everyone's minds until they'd fleshed out the man's accomplices and handed them over to the Dementors for safekeeping until they could be questioned. And executed. Blaise, meanwhile, had stayed lazily sprawled across his throne, licking his heartblood off of the dagger as if it were nothing more than sticky red candy. It had definitely made a statement, at the very least.

The first assassin had tried to get Virginia when she was eating at a small New Zealand restaurant with her mother, and the woman had thought her to be alone. That had been proven false when Blaise had come out of the back room in time to see her aiming her wand and starting the Killing Curse, not that it would have been enough to murder Virginia in the first place. But the intention was all that had mattered to him, and they'd only found pieces of her by the end. But that hadn't been nearly as public as Draco's moment of fury, and hearing rumors was quite different than actually witnessing it. Needless to say, no one else had made any attempts.

The majority of the people were happy with their reign anyway, considering all that they had accomplished. Peace, freedom, the continuation of their race, which was thriving like never before, the return of the gods, peace, freedom…Everyone was pleased, except for a rare few that hadn't been fully cleansed of the Bane that fateful day almost sixteen years ago. Oh, and the people who crossed them, of course. Most didn't live to see another dawn, but a few had, and they led miserable lives. Fresh air tickled across her face, and she opened her eyes to see one of the carriage stations before her. She'd made it just in time.

"Evening, m'lady." One of the servants greeted her, a young boy of no more than ten or eleven, and she gave him a warm smile as he held open the door to her coach, slipping him a few galleons as a tip, since she knew that most of the nobles rarely bothered.

His eyes widened before he gave her a genuine smile in return, but it didn't last when his eyes flickered to the inside of the coach. Suddenly suspicious, she slid her hand inside her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the length of maple wood that rested within it. She didn't truly need it anymore; she hadn't since the Lady had Marked her, but it was still comforting to keep it with her, to know that it was there. Steeling herself, she climbed the short set of foldout silver steps and came face to face with the last people that she had wanted to see. The carriage door shut behind her, and she suddenly felt very, very trapped. Fuck.

"Mother. Father. Felix." She intoned blankly, taking a seat as far away from them as possible.

"How nice of you to finally arrive." Célina Parkinson said coldly, her accent heavily French, although her English was perfect, much like the rest of her. She was beautiful in every sense of the word as long as you kept it to physical characteristics. She had long, cognac-colored hair that never had a single wisp out of place, eyes that were twins of Pansy's, as well as the same small, up-turned nose. She appeared dainty and delicate, but it was lie of momentous proportions.

"I was busy." Lycelle murmured, hating the way that she still felt like a worthless child whenever she was around them.

"Busy." Her father repeated, making it sound ridiculous, as if he thought so little of her as to assume that she never did anything of worth. Which he did. "And what were you…_busy_ with?" He asked, his accent as thick as her mother's, his blond hair pulled back in a tight, neat ponytail so that it would stay out of his hazel eyes and not distract the gaze from his sharp cheekbones and full lips.

She didn't get to answer as the air in the carriage became momentarily stifling before the whole thing shivered and leapt forward. Only the noblest of nobles were allowed in these coaches, because they traveled through the ether, fueled by the Royals' magick and power. It was the quickest way to travel across continents or oceans or both, and it wasn't tedious or overwhelming like, say, if she'd wanted to Apparate, floo or even use a portkey. Only the walls of the coach kept them from being crushed by the incredible pressure right outside, but as long as you didn't think about that overly much, the ride was perfectly comfortable.

Which was too bad, since it gave them the opportunity to start talking again.

"Ask her not, Philippe, for it will be nothing that we would wish to hear her prattle on about." Felix, her cousin and her most hated family member, said absently, as if he'd barely noted her presence at all.

He, too, was blond, just like their fathers, who were brothers, and he had the same bone structure as well. He could have been her father's son, they looked so much alike, and she knew that her father wished that he was, knew that he wished he could trade Lycelle for him. He would never give up Pansy, because her sister was their family's pride and joy, but he would have gotten rid of Lycelle long ago had Pansy not objected so vehemently. Only the threat of losing his precious firstborn had made him stay his hand and let Lycelle continue to stay with her grandmother, and sometimes she wished that Pansy had not interfered. Usually at times like these.

"Fuck off, Felix." She had no problem fighting with him. She had been ever since she could remember, after all.

"Isn't that what your dragon rider is for?" He sneered, and Philippe raised one hand.

"You go too far. Marcello Moretti is a perfectly respectable young man, as befits his family. He simply has bad taste." Her father drawled, his eyes raking over her and making her feel dirty and worthless, just as they always did. "And _you_," he said, as if speaking her name would somehow hurt him or foul his tongue, "you have not even had the decency to bear any children."

"I'm not my sister." She said in a small, tired voice, and three tinkling laughs followed that statement.

"That much is more than obvious, I assure you." Her mother agreed nastily. "Pansy has already done her duty to the McGregor line and our own." She said, referring to Pansy and Anton's five-year-old son and three-year-old daughter, the first of which was the heir to the McGregor line, and the latter that was the next heir to the Parkinson line.

Lycelle doubted, however, that Anton and Pansy would be Passing anytime remotely soon, considering that they had not aged a day since letting the Royals Mark them as the twins' were Marked, and that was over fifteen years ago. It was remarkably strange to have an older sister that looked younger than she did, an older sister that was almost thirty-two and didn't look a day over eighteen. _And most likely never will if my suspicions are correct_, Lycelle thought distantly, most of her attention on her family. They were not people that it would be safe to let her guard down around. She had learned that long ago after Felix had tried to shove her down four flights of stairs the summer after her first year at Hogwarts. Her parents had laughed.

Gods, how she hated them.

"Yes, I know Pansy's accomplishments as well as any." Lycelle said after a moment, and her mother smiled a vicious smile.

"Do you?" She asked, and Lycelle caught a flash of something strange in her mother's eyes before she could hide it. Something that looked a lot like _jealousy_. A thrill shot through Lycelle from head to foot and she had to stop herself from grinning broadly. So their mother was envious of her relationship with her sister? Good.

"Oh, yes." She said, a level of smugness in her tone that had never manifested itself around these people before, and her new knowledge gave her confidence. "We make sure to have brunch together at least twice a week, no matter how busy we both are. In fact, I'm going to America to do her a favor that she couldn't entrust anyone else with." Oh, she'd had no idea how satisfying rubbing this shit in could be. No idea at all.

"You're a fucking liar, Lycelle." Felix spat. "She trusts the Royals more than you, she trusts Anton more than you, she trusts a lot of people more than she does some fucking weak little white witch."

"Weak." Lycelle scoffed. "Who's weak? Maybe I should call my Lady and see if she agrees, hmm?"

"Do not think to threaten us." Felix hissed, his hand tightening around the wand in his lap that she hadn't even seen. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, she reprimanded herself. What if he had decided to use it before now? She wouldn't even have seen it until it was too late. "We are favored by the Royal family more than you are or ever will be, and you know as well as I that to harm us would be treason."

"Ah, but you forget, dear cousin, that I might not be the Royals favorite person, but I am highly cherished by my sister, and she would vouch for me."

"Against her own family? Think again, little witch." Her father said haughtily, and some of her arrogance was squashed underneath his piercing hazel eyes, eyes that were barely three shades lighter than Anton's. She'd always wondered if Pansy held more love for their father than she let on, and if Anton having eyes so much like his had been an added bonus in her mind. Her father seemed to sense her deflating, and he smirked in an all-too-familiar way. "You are the Chosen of the Lady of the Sun, and yet you still fear me." He stated, sounding quite pleased.

"You made sure of that long ago." Lycelle murmured, and his smirk grew ever wider.

"I'm glad to know that it has not changed." He said, and she wanted to hit him, scratch him, make that pretty face bleed. But she wouldn't, not even now, and she hated herself for it, hated her reluctance and cowardice. It would be all too easy to kill him, to turn her Lady's Light into something that was in no way good or righteous, to watch him scream as his skin split open, white-hot rays spilling from his flesh and—

'_You will do no such thing._' The Lady told her sternly, and she felt a blush stain her cheeks. She hadn't meant to project her thoughts loud enough for the Lady to hear.

'_Forgive me, Great One._' She begged, her pride gone in the face of her master's ire. '_I wouldn't have, it was only my thoughts running free. These people affect me like no one else._'

'_I know._' The Dawn Star replied, but She didn't sound very convinced. '_But regardless, I do not wish for you to go before __America__'s ruling class with such horrid thoughts still rushing through you. I will send __Tex__ to meet you at the station._'

'_I do not need a babysitter!_' She thought indignantly before she could stop herself, and immediately regretted it.

'_My decision is final._' The Lady snapped, Her honey-and-flowers tone gone in an instant. Then the link between them closed with a suddenness that left Lycelle gasping and cursing herself for losing control badly enough to anger her Lady.

"Maybe she's dying." She distantly heard Felix comment gleefully, and she lifted her head to glare at him.

"Shut up." She snapped, in an utterly foul mood. "Just shut up. I've already annoyed the Lady today, and I'm this," she held up her fingers for emphasis, "close to taking my chances and doing it again just to see how you look with all of that beautiful hair on fire. Now leave me alone. My day will be difficult enough without you making it worse."

"Why _are_ you going to the United States?" Her mother suddenly asked. Well, more like _demanded_, but she was so used to it that she barely registered the difference.

"I have to meet up with Draco and Blaise." She said unthinkingly, so her mother's sharp slap came as a complete surprise. "Wha—"

"Do not speak their names!" The woman ranted, her cheeks turning a light pink with fury. "You are not worthy enough for it, and I refuse to have you disrespect our Kings as you disrespect us! You will show the _proper_ respect, or I will name you traitor myself! And to speak their names is to draw their attention! How wise do you think it is to distract them while they are at a council with the American muggle rulers? Sometimes, no, _most_ of the time, I simply cannot believe that you are my…child." The last word was said in the most disgusted tone that Lycelle had ever heard from her.

"Me? A traitor? You've said some outrageous things before, _mother_, but that about tops the list." Wow. That was probably the rudest thing that she had ever said to the woman in front of her, and it had felt _excellent_.

There was no time to say more, if she'd even have been able to, because the coach finally began to slow, shaking minutely as it broke through the ether at the Royal family's carriage station in Washington, D.C. She wasted no time in exiting, and her feet hit the grey gravel less than nine or ten seconds after they'd stopped. Breathing the fresh air and feeling free again, she hurried towards the station and only realized when she got there that she had no idea why _they_ had come to America at all. Probably for the council, but she didn't care enough to check and find out. She was away from them, and that was all that she truly cared about.

"Lycelle!" A familiar voice called as soon as she'd stepped inside the cool, richly furnished waiting room, and she looked up to see Tex striding towards her in robes the same shade as hers.

He still looked almost exactly the same as he had the last time that she had seen him almost six months ago, except he had cut his brown hair shorter than it had been, leaving only a thin layer of stubble to cover his head. He was still a burnt reddish-brown from the Texas sun, though, and she doubted that would ever change. He towered over her, almost six and a half feet tall, and he was built like a large, walking mountain. His huge, muscled frame would probably have looked strange to her in the loose, flowing robes, but she'd grown up with the Crabbes as her closest neighbors, so it just didn't seem as odd to her as it did to most people.

"Hello, Tex." She greeted him warmly, her bad mood evaporating as it always did when he turned that boyish grin on her full-force. Now _that_ had seemed odd to her at first, but she'd quickly learned that it was just a part of who he was.

"So, where to?" He asked, and she sighed.

"The Capitol Building."

He whistled and rocked back on his heels. "Damn, girl. Do you have the jurisdiction to get in there? The place has been all over the news. Security's tighter than my mother's—"

"Stop right there." She warned, trying to look serious and failing when he grinned again. That was Tex for you.

What on earth had drawn the Lady to this lecherous, uncouth wizard was beyond her. Well…No, that wasn't completely true. Because she knew that underneath the tough attitude and crude sayings, he had a heart of gold. He was the kind of person that stopped to pick up trash off of the side the road with his hands instead of spells, the kind of person that would willingly die for a stranger in order to save them. He was also very, very vulgar when he wished to be. Vulgar enough that a comment he'd made to Virginia one time in jest had almost gotten his throat ripped by one of her guards before she had been able to stop laughing long enough to drag them away.

"My apologies." Tex intoned, not sounding the least bit sorry, his deep Southern accent rolling through the room like a bass drum. "The Capitol Building it is, though I sincerely hope that you _do_ have some sort of authorization, because otherwise, they're going to kick our asses out before we even get within three blocks of the place."

"They've shut down the main roads?" Lycelle questioned, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, of course they have, honey child. The High Kings rarely visit our country, and the President sure as hell don't want anything to happen to happen while they're here and it be _his_ fault due to lack of security. That could end up a very bad thing. A very bad thing, indeed."

"I know." She said, sighing again. "Well, let's go. Do they have an Apparation point set up somewhere close?"

"I have no idea, I just got here. We can ask her, though." He said, nodding to the girl behind the counter that was reading _Witch Weekly_. Lycelle agreed and walked over to the young redhead, rapping her fingers on the counter to get the girl's attention. The girl took one look at her white robes before gazing up at her face, and Lycelle saw recognition spark in her eyes.

"Lady Moretti, how can I help you?"

"I need to get to the Capitol Building." Lycelle started, watching the girl's eyes widen. "Are there any open Apparation points close to it?"

"At the check station on New Jersey Avenue." The girl replied after a moment, shaking her head. Lycelle thanked her and walked back over to Tex.

"There is. Come on." She said, and away they went.

They found themselves facing a small white booth that was obviously movable, but the armored tanks blocking off the street and the dozens of army personal didn't look movable at all, nor did the media vans that were four thick in every direction. Apparently, the muggle news had latched onto the Kings' visit like mad wolverines. One of the first things that Draco and Blaise had done after being crowned and making the people safe and strong again had been to disband the Ministries and refuse to go along with the secrecy policies that the said Ministries had obliged concerning the truth of their race. Their people no longer hid in the shadows.

The muggle world's reaction to finding out that their collective governments had been keeping such a huge secret from them hadn't been pretty, riots breaking out all over the globe after the emergency bulletin. Why an _emergency_ bulletin, you might ask? Because the High Kings hadn't given them much choice, and they'd had to warn their citizens before witches and wizards had started strolling down the streets of their cities in robes and carrying wands, performing spells and flying on broomsticks. At first, many muggles had thought that their leaders had gone insane, but the first time that they'd seen a person disappear or fly or change into an animal…Well.

The media had eaten it up, and the Presidents of four countries had been removed from office by national votes. The wizarding world had celebrated for sixty days and sixty nights, and many much longer than that. Now it was common to see the sidewalks teeming with robed figures, common to see a witch brewing potions in her front yard, common to come across a centaur in a public park gazing at the stars. And one might think, since those things _were_ common now, that the novelty would have worn off. Not so. The muggles were still fascinated, still frightened, still flabbergasted. They still carried an aura of general disbelief.

Apparently, it was quite shocking to discover that the conservative man down the street was a real-life wizard, or that the nice old lady next door could hex you into oblivion with what to the muggles was nothing more than a stick. And it was seemingly even more shocking that those wizards and witches had a true Royal family, a true monarchy. Shocking that their Kings looked like walking wet dreams, shocking that they'd regained their thrones in a war that the muggles had known nothing of. Shocking that their countries' leaders had known about it all, shocking that they had witches and wizards in office, shocking, shocking, shocking.

"This is a restricted area." The uniformed man at the booth told them, a large machine gun strapped across his back in easy reach. Lycelle had been studying muggles for a few years, so she knew what the black, bulky thing was. "You need to leave."

"I'm here to meet with my Kings." She said, letting the man know that she was a witch incase the robes and her sudden appearance hadn't clued him in. It could be surprising how dense muggles could be at times. This one, though, apparently had a fully functioning brain, and he glared at her.

"No one gets inside. Those are my orders."

"Fine." Lycelle sighed yet again and held out her hand. "See this ring? Now let me in."

"No one gets inside."

"Sweet Merlin." This was going to get old fast. "This ring is a symbol of the Royal family. My sister is their sworn sister, and that makes me sort of like an adopted member of the family. So let me through, or I'll contact the High Kings mind-to-mind and get them out here themselves. Trust me when I say that you wouldn't like that." She wouldn't _really_, of course, not unless it was urgent, and this wasn't. But he didn't know that.

"No one gets inside." He looked a little shaken but still resolute, and she wondered what to do until another uniformed officer walked up to them, four gold stars on his chest and a 'don't-fuck-with-me-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you' expression on his hard face.

"What's the problem here, Andrews?" The man asked, and Lycelle nearly crowed with joy when she saw the wand tucked into one of his boot holsters.

"There is no problem, General." Lycelle said before the other soldier could respond. "He didn't seem to understand." She finished simply, and held out her hand once more. As soon as the man saw the ring and her face, he kneeled before her and nearly gave his underling a heart attack. He kissed her hand and stood again, his features tinted with a respect that hadn't been there before.

"I take it you wish to join the council, my lady?" He asked, and she nodded wordlessly, putting on her best arrogant face and beckoning Tex to follow her when the man led them to another white booth. "Right in here. Take one of the passes on the counter and then touch the standing lamp. It's a portkey."

"Thank you, General." She said, and he nodded before bowing and going to chew out the officer at the other booth for giving her trouble.

She and Tex went inside, and she took one of the plastic passes for herself before handing one to him. They each laid a hand on the bronze lamp that was sitting against the opposite wall, and a few seconds later, they were in a pristine lobby, standing before a receptionist that looked up at them with very pink, very non-human eyes. No glamour spells for her, not anymore. It was now discrimination to terminate or not hire a member of the magical community simply because they were of the magical community. Most were too scared to discriminate anyway, at least not so openly. With a voice like little girl's, the nymph greeted them.

"Good day." Her eyes flickered to the passes hanging around their necks. "Here you go." She reached underneath the counter before setting two shiny stones on its surface. "These will take you to where the council is in session."

"Alright." Lycelle looked around before turning back to the nymph. "I thought security was tight around here. I saw all of the guards outside, but what about in here?"

"Oh, they're here, my lady." The nymph laughed. "They're everywhere. But you'll only see the muggle ones unless the others want to be seen."

"Invisibility charms." Lycelle murmured mostly to herself, before thanking the nymph and grabbing one of the stones.

Tex did the same, and they were soon in a large room that was filled to the brim with people, all of whom had their attention on those that were speaking. Trying not to cause a scene with their entrance, she and Tex each took the first empty seats that they saw, and what looked like the last empty seats out of several hundred. They were spread out in rising rows around the circumference of the room, and she saw Draco, Blaise and the twins immediately, down on the floor in the center, seated upon dark, wooden thrones. All four wore robes of black, and all four looked annoyed. She knew from personal experience that that was never good.

"All I meant, your majesties, was that we don't think it's a good idea." One of the men on the floor with them said, looking slightly nervous. "We cannot possibly condone—"

"You don't seem to be listening." Blaise cut him off, tapping his black-nailed fingers on the arm of his throne impatiently. "We are not asking you to _condone_ anything. In fact, we are not _asking_ you to do anything. We are _telling_ you."

"But, your majesty, we can't give them _all_ those days off!" The man exclaimed, apparently losing his control over his emotions, which was not a smart thing to do around them. They could smell weakness from miles away.

"You _will_," Draco said, his voice cold and commanding, "or you will not like the consequences."

"Is that a _threat_, your majesty?" The man's voice was thick with disbelief as he shook his graying head, his small brown eyes growing large.

"Why, yes, yes it is." Blaise crooned, and Lycelle knew that tone of voice, knew that he was thinking of blood and all of the ways that he could make the man scream. "You will give our people time off from their jobs for the Eight Great Sabbats so that they may properly worship, just as you give your own time off for your major holidays."

"Or what?" Now the man sounded angry, and that was the stupidest thing he could have done. Why in the hell were the Americans letting this fool do their negotiating? He would get them all killed if he didn't either shut up or quickly gain some sense.

"Or we will flatten your pretty little city to the ground." Draco snapped, apparently done with formalities. Whispers spread around the room like wildfire, and a woman rose after the President leaned in and said something to her. She walked up to the man who had been talking to them and mumbled something in his ear. He turned a bright red, stood, and stormed off and out of a side door. She took his place in the seat directly across from the thrones, and folded her hands demurely in her lap, looking utterly professional.

"Forgive him, your majesties, he meant no offense." She said politely, and one of the twins (she couldn't see the differences in their shades of eyeliner from where she was seated) sneered.

"Yes, he did." He said, and the woman took it in stride. She was already looking like a much better choice.

"I apologize. We will speak to him about his rash tongue."

"You do that." The twin settled back into his own, slightly smaller throne, and the woman seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, along with the other people crowded into the room.

The muggles might outnumber witches and wizards, but they were no match for them in open warfare, and they knew it. Especially not with the power that the Royal family alone held. They knew that the Kings' threat was not an idle one, even if it had been made in a moment of anger, and they had no wish to see their country decimated. Which it would be if they pushed Draco or Blaise or both too far. At first, the Americans had not been used to having to answer to anyone, had not been used to being the _second_ strongest nation in the world, but they had quickly adjusted after Virginia had removed their power-hungry President's head.

The Vice President that had taken his place hadn't been much better, but he'd met his end quietly in his own home, in a much less public display. The Speaker of the House of Representatives had then taken office, and he'd been _much_ more accommodating. Smart man. He understood what most did not. He understood that witches and wizards populated every country across the globe. He understood that they would destroy anyone or anything that their High Kings ordered them to, and if that happened to be America or some other country, they would do it from the inside. There was no barring them by sea or air, since they already _lived_ with their borders.

No war since the Civil War had been fought on American soil, and he hadn't wanted that to change. So he had done his best not to offend the Royals, and the current American President did the same. But there were still right-wing activists that swore they were the children of the Devil, and when one reporter had said as much to Blaise, he'd happily told them that it was true, and that he would make sure to tell Lucifer that He was being thought of the next time that he and his lovers visited Him in Hell. _That_ had made front pages globally for months afterwards. Shit, it _still_ did when the papers and tabloids had nothing else to print.

"I will see to it personally, my lord." The woman replied, and Lycelle knew that she recognized her from somewhere, probably from a different council. "Now, exactly what days are we talking about?"

"October 31st, December 21st, February 2nd, March 21st, April 30th, June 21st, August 2nd and September 21st." The other twin said in a bored voice, and the woman nodded.

"May we have an hour to convene amongst ourselves?" She asked, and the twins looked to Blaise and Draco.

Draco touched Blaise's hand ever-so-lightly, and the raven-haired King turned his full attention on the woman. She actually handled it quite well, and Lycelle wondered if she had magical blood in her veins. Most muggles found their eyes unnerving to the point of breaking out in a sweat and quivering in instinctual fear, and that was when there wasn't any power behind those silver and cerulean gazes. Those eyes could melt a muggle's mind in seconds if they wished it, and some part of them seemed to know it, which tended to make them scared shitless within a heartbeat of being under those stares. She flinched and dropped her own eyes, but that was it. Blaise wasn't _trying_ to terrify her, after all. It was just the way things worked.

"If you feel that you need it." Blaise said so softly that only Lycelle's improved hearing let her catch his words.

The woman nodded again, not looking nearly so composed as she had earlier, and the High Kings rose with the twins. A flickering of silver eyes in Lycelle's direction was enough to have her standing as well and drawing curious gazes as she made her way down the aisle to them. She was stopped before she could go through the small, waist-high gate, but a mercury glare had the guard backing off and letting her through. She went to her Kings and kneeled, Tex right behind her doing the same. A cold hand rested on her shoulder, the world spun, and she suddenly found herself on soft carpet that was much easier on the knees than the polished wooden floor had been.

"Rise." Draco said absently, walking to a liquor cabinet, and she took the opportunity to spread out her senses and look around.

They weren't even in the same building, which should have been impossible considering that it had been surrounded by Anti-Apparation wards, but then again, she didn't know of any wards in existence that could hold them anymore. They were still in D.C., though, probably at their estate, and there _were_ wards around the room, wards that nothing less than a Dark Royal of Cocidius's Court could get through, and even _they_ would have more than a bit of trouble with them, if she was gauging the power levels in them correctly. And the wards around _this_ room were positively shabby next to the ones around the Palaces.

They were in a room done in solid black, and when she said solid, she meant _solid_. The carpet, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture…It was all a deep ebony that barely reflected the illumination that the balls of dim witchlight near the roof gave off, and the only spots of color were their robes, hair and skin. Blaise melted into the darkness, and she wouldn't have been able to see him at all if it hadn't been for his alabaster skin and vivid eyes. Draco, though, Draco almost appeared to be glowing, his snow-white skin, silver hair and platinum eyes complementing and being complemented by all of the black surrounding him. And Fred and George…Well.

Fred and George looked a lot different than they had at the Great War's end. Their beauty had grown until it was almost as breathtaking as the Kings' own, their hair was as dark a scarlet as their sister's, looking like spilled blood against the colorless walls, and not a single freckle spotted their ivory skin. Cocidius had granted His Chosen and their Chosen another twist to their shapeshifting, and now they had all of the options that a Metamorphmagi had, so some days the twins had hair that hit their waists, others that it curled around their shoulders, and others, like today, that it was back to being chin-length.

"What brings you and your friend here, Lycelle?" Blaise asked as Draco handed him a glass of some amber liquid, and he motioned for them to sit if they wished.

There were three leather couches in the room, a handful of squishy armchairs, two huge desks, and a low divan against one wall. Tex moved to one of the chairs, and she took the one beside him while Draco and Blaise sank gracefully onto one of the couches. Fred fell onto the cushions beside Draco while George sprawled out by Blaise, and they curled up next to them like lazy, contented cats, their heads on their shoulders and their arms around their waists, their fingers intertwined and resting on the Kings' stomachs. All four looked completely comfortable, and she'd seen them in similar positions countless times.

"I have a favor to ask of you, my lords." She said after a moment of watching them. Anyone who didn't know better would have probably thought that they were all lovers considering their intimate positioning, but she _did_ know better, and it didn't faze her.

"Then ask. And cut the fucking formal shit. We've dealt with enough of it today without hearing it from one who has ties to us like you have through your sister and husband." Draco intoned dryly, sipping his own glass of liquor and running the fingers of one hand through Fred's hair over and over slowly, as if the movement soothed him. It probably did.

"I need your memories." She said, and knew instantly that she could have phrased that better when their faces went utterly blank.

"Do you." It wasn't a question. She answered anyway.

"Yes." Now to explain as much as she could without giving it away or lying. They could smell one of the latter as easily as they could weakness. "Padma made a Sansieve, and we wish to make a gift of it for Virginia. A surprise gift. We are gathering memories from all of those closest to her, and it certainly wouldn't be complete without yours." She said, directing her last statement at all four of them. Tex stayed utterly silent. Their presence alone tended to have that affect on people.

They all stayed so quiet and so still for so long that she started to get really worried. Would they refuse? Would they ask a thousand questions? Would they break into her mind when she couldn't answer them due to her oath of secrecy? She started really, _really_ hoping that Pansy hadn't misjudged this whole situation. Worst-case scenarios played randomly through her head, and she wondered if her Lady would even _try_ to aid her should things go horribly wrong. Not that it would help all that much if She did. Her Lady was powerful and awesome, but She was no match for Her sister or Cocidius, and the Kings and the twins were infused with their power.

She knew that Tex could feel her sudden anxiety through their Marks; she knew that he wondered why she feared them so, even though her sister was bound to them. But he hadn't been around them long enough yet to truly understand what they were like, what they _were_. They were volatile and lethal in every way imaginable, and they had long ago lost any sort of conscience that they might once have possessed. They would kill as quickly as they would heal, but they took good care of their people until those people fucked up. And really, their laws were much more laid back and lenient than the Ministries' had been, and few had any problems with the changes.

_All_ magic was accepted once more, which had scared the majority of the white witches and wizards to pieces at first, but it was surprising how many of them now practiced arts that they'd once called 'questionable' or 'evil'. A new generation was springing up from the ashes of the old one, and it was a much more open-minded generation than the last had been. Many people who'd loathed them once, years and years ago, now sung their praises in temples across the globe, adored them for leading their people on a slow, but sure, path to being as mighty and proud as they had once been, before Dagda's Ban, before the last Sovereigns had Passed.

Many understood what they were in context, but they didn't see them day by day, didn't see them as clearly as she did. And what she saw, what she felt, was unmistakable. They were _dark_, so very, very dark that all that kept them from sinking so far down into the void that they _became_ pure darkness were those that they were bound to, those few that they loved more than anything else in the world. Eight people made up their Court's inner circle, and those eight people were like pieces of a giant puzzle, some larger than others but all just as vital as the next in order to keep the whole together, to create the whole picture. Now she sat before four of them, and only a fool wouldn't have been nervous.

Nervous and terrified. Nervous and terrified and wondering if they were drawing one of their last breaths.

"You ask for much, daughter of the Dawn Star." Draco's silky voice finally broke the silence, giving her a formal title that, technically, she could claim since she was the White Lady's High Priestess.

She was on shaky, shaky ground. It was like being in the middle of a frozen pond the size of an ocean and hearing the first sharp cracks starting underneath your feet, echoing and echoing until you didn't know if it was more ice breaking or just your own terror overwhelming you. It made you so scared that you were afraid to move, so scared that you were afraid to so much as breathe for the fear that one wrong step, one breath too deep, would send you down, down, down into all of that inky, freezing darkness. The strongest of people could fall victim to it and not be able to do a damn thing about it, because the cold conquered you so quickly that you couldn't even struggle, couldn't even fight to try and reach the surface of that frozen hell.

"I know. And I would not ask such a thing of any of you lightly." She thought she deserved major points for the fact that her voice only barely reflected the fear within her. Not that they couldn't hear her heart beating rapidly like a caged rabbit's, hear her blood pounding through her veins. Taking several calming breaths, she tried to concentrate on something else. It wouldn't help anything to smell like prey, like food.

"I have read about this 'Sansieve' that you speak of." Blaise commented, twirling his glass around with slender fingers in a thoughtless, absent gesture. "It does not surprise me that Padma would remember it. But why make it now?"

"Um…" Fuck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. _Think, Lycelle, think_, she told herself desperately. "Padma broke her leg three days ago and Virginia healed it." Well, that was true at least. But she also knew that Padma was going to freak on her as soon as she found out that Lycelle had told. But what else was she supposed to say? Certainly not the _whole_ truth.

"Padma did what?" The twins demanded in unison, and she flinched. Yeah, Padma was _definitely_ going to make her pay for that slip of information. She'd have her doing something asinine and brain-numbing like building bowtruckle houses for the next few months. That woman was _evil_ when she got annoyed.

"She broke her leg."

"You are not lying." Draco said thoughtfully, and she had to close her eyes when his lifted to hers. "But you are also not telling us everything, either."

"She broke her leg, she was exhausted, you know how she gets when some animal or another gets hurt, and that time it was one of the young unicorns that still had its gold coat." Why did she always end up rambling around them? "She'd already been tired from working at St. Mungo's for two straight days, and the poor thing would have died, it really _was_ quite gruesome, but she healed it, and she didn't want to worry you, so she kept the Marks closed and drained her reserves instead." She was already in deep shit. She might as well tell them all of it.

"Did she now." The twins said in low, all-too-calm voices that were only betrayed by their ticking jaws and narrowed eyes, by their white-knuckled grips on each other's hand. She counted herself lucky that they even trusted her enough to show that little bit of emotion around her. Had they been, say, in that council room, she knew that nothing would have shown through their princely, courtly masks, she knew that nothing but bored blankness would have filled those stunning features.

"Yes. And when she was on her way back through the grounds, the same colt almost ran into one of the Acromantula's birthing caves, and she called it back, but it's an adventurous little thing and headed in anyway. So she went after it, and the mother spider was already attacking. It stopped when it calmed enough to sense Padma, of course, and the colt got away, but Padma's leg got crushed by a boulder. The spider's mate carried her back to the Palace and Virginia patched her up and agreed to continue shielding the accident from the four of you so that you wouldn't leave the council early."

"I'm going to kill them." George hissed, dagger-like nails digging into the back of the leather couch. "I'm going to fucking kill them both with my bare hands."

"You'll have to get there first." Fred argued, already starting to rise. A pale hand stopped him, and he sat back down, returning to his previous position, his face going steady and unreadable with that single touch.

"And Padma told you to tell us this?"

"Not really. I believe that her exact words were, '_Use any means necessary to get the memories_', and that was relayed to me through Pansy."

"So be it." Blaise said, and Lycelle nearly sighed in relief until he continued. "But whatever else it is that you're hiding, and you _are_ still hiding something, had better not be of any true importance."

"I understand, your majesty." She said, back to being formal since that last had been spoken in a voice filled with smooth, liquid lightning, the voice of her King, not of her sister's friend, and she wished that she'd never agreed to do this. But she had, and they'd agreed, and she didn't want to waste any more time. An hour only lasted so long.

"What kind of memories is it that you want from us?"

"Anything good, your majesty. It can be about Virginia or just something that pleases you. Anything that gives you joy, anything that you cherish. She will appreciate whatever brings those that she cares for happiness. But there is no way to really filter the memories with a Sansieve except for one to go inside them and pick through them after they've been put inside it."

"And I take it that you will do the picking?" Draco asked, and she nodded slowly.

"Yes, your majesty. Once all of them have been gathered, I will sort through them and discard anything negative."

"I doubt that you would want to see our negative memories, blanc un." Blaise drawled, something in his tone that sent a shiver down her spine. Thinking quickly and hoping she caused no offense, she spoke quietly, questioningly. ((white one))

"Is it that I would not wish to, your majesty, or that you do not wish for me to?" She needed to know, because if they changed their minds due to her participation, then she would have to floo Pansy and get her down here. That or abandon the idea all together.

"We care not what you see from us, Light Bride." Draco stated, that familiar hint of distaste coloring his velvet voice as her title slipped from his frosty lips. "We have nothing to hide. But many things that we remember are not things that one of your ilk would be comfortable seeing, experiencing."

"I know that you carry darkness within you." She started, and their laughter almost made her stop. There was that odd inflection again, that strange _something_ that made her doubt that she knew anything at all. "I know that many things I might see will scar me. But I also know that it will be worth it." They seemed to consider her words for a moment, weighing them and judging them, and she waited with baited breath.

"Alright." The High Kings agreed simultaneously. "But do not come crying to us later saying that you did not understand. We will try to ease the flow, keep the more horrible things out, but we will make you no promises, for we have never used one of these clever little devices before."

"I ask for nothing more, your majesties." She said, and then looked to the twins. They studied her silently for a moment more before nodding slowly, that vibrant, shockingly red hair falling over eyes that had darkened to a deep cobalt, only traces of the former cornflower blue showing in small starbursts around their pupils.

Nodding herself, she held out a hand and called in the small black box, which was covered with a cloth, that Pansy had given her. It would hold their memories until Lycelle got back to the Palace. The actual Sansieve was in Padma's possession, and she would go straight to her when she returned in order to use it and report on what had happened. _That_ was going to be a pretty conversation. Not. But her sister had said that the small box would do what needed doing, and that all she had to do was speak the spell and let them touch it. She would have explained it to them, but Blaise had said that he remembered reading about Sansieves, and she took him at his word.

She didn't touch the box with her bare skin yet, that could wait until later, but they each laid a few fingers upon the scratchy wood, and she watched their eyes glaze over. They stayed so still that she fancied she could blink and they'd be gone, but they did nothing so dramatic as that. They just stayed motionless and unseeing until Draco and Blaise broke away and slid back against the cushions. The twins followed a few moments later, and they all stared at the box as if it were some foul little monster that had just tried to bite them. Wrapping it back up in the dark maroon fabric, she said nothing, as nothing she could have said would help.

She had not seen such haunted looks, rooted deep within their eyes, in so long that she'd almost forgotten they'd existed. Pansy had told her once that the eight of them had felt something strange on the battlefield, a returning awareness of their past lives and of who and what they had been like during them. But right then, Lycelle thought that for the first time in a long time, it was just _them_ looking out for a moment, them as they had been before. Because there were some things that you cannot defeat, some things that you cannot overthrow or thwart or vanquish, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, asking them to look so deeply into themselves had been more than a little cruel.

"Take that and go." Blaise said abruptly, standing in a movement so quick that she only caught parts of it. She tried to get up but felt stuck in place, and she could feel Tex trying to pull her to her feet.

But her attention seemed glued to the four eternally youthful men in front of her, men that would forever look no older than nineteen or twenty, men that were almost too beautiful to be called 'men' at all, as if they deserved a different word, a word that captured all of their grace and elegance and etherealness. They were wiser than their years, much wiser, and sometimes, every once in a rare, rare while, the masks that they _always_ wore would slip, and she would catch the age in those eyes, the uncountable eons that they'd seen and lived and died, and it humbled her in a way that few things did anymore. _Royalty, indeed. Timeless Royalty._

Now was one of those times, and yet it wasn't. She would glimpse one of their eyes and think '_ancient_', then see the other and think, '_so_ _young…too young_', and it was one of the most confusing experiences of her life. How could they be half one thing and half the other? But then again, how were they any of the things that they were? They were walking impossibilities as it was, so what was one more aspect to them, one more glimpse? They had proven time and time again that they were living paradoxes, and she had learned not to question two of them long before they'd been Chosen or Shadow Kings, and the other two over time.

"Go!" That from Draco, and the command in it hit her like a whip, jarring her back to reality.

Standing, she hurriedly tried to put the box in her pocket, forgetting her magic as she watched their control starting to slip the tiniest bit. The twins snarled, their eyes all for that stupid box, and she felt it taken from her gently. Turning, she saw it disappear into Tex's huge pocket before he wrapped one of those large hands completely around her upper arm, and Apparated through the hole in the wards that the Kings threw open. It closed after them immediately, and the last thing she saw was the room being destroyed piece by careless piece, the twins looking soul-sick and heartbroken as they watched their best friends lost in pain and forced memories.

She found herself back at the carriage station, shaken but mostly fine. What on earth had they remembered to get such a reaction? She felt truly wretched for asking this of them now, and wondered if Padma, Pansy and Anton had known how agonizing that would be for ones who had seen and lived what they had seen and lived. She wondered if they'd known how agonizing it would be for the twins, who were right next to them with the Marks wide open, unable to help them, to soothe that heartache. She didn't think they had, but if she found out otherwise, some shit was going to go down. No one deserved the internal torment that she had only briefly witnessed.

Especially not her Kings. She felt the same draw to them that everyone else with magical blood did, a primal sort of feeling that didn't make much sense when thought of consciously, but made every kind of sense possible _sub_consciously. It was like when she had seen the old pictures and tapestries depicting the lost Royals, but a million times stronger. And she might not have the power even with her Lady's help to stand up to Padma, Anton or her sister, but she could damn good and well give them a piece of her mind. Growing ever angrier as Tex led her to a coach, she barely noticed them making the jump into the ether. They had better have an explanation, and a damn good one.

"Lycelle?" Tex called softly, shaking her shoulder. "Honey-child?"

"I'm fine."

"No, no you're not."

"She could have warned me." She said, letting him put an arm around her shoulder. He opened the Marks between them the tiniest bit and sent her peace, the inner-peace that filled him everywhere where he went. It wasn't as unshakable as Padma's, but she was the earth, and that was no big surprise. But he was powerful in his own right, and it was a gentle, loving power, even though he looked like a small walking mountain.

"Who could have warned you?" He asked, and she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to get herself together.

"My sister. She could have warned me. If she'd known what it might be like, then she'd also known that I wouldn't be prepared to see my Kings in such pain."

"You felt it too?" He asked, his voice low and slightly awed, as it usually was only when he spoke of their Lady.

"Of course I did." She replied, her voice matter-of-fact and showing none of her still-broiling ire. "They are our Kings. What did you think that meant? You should know by now that they hold anything but empty titles. You lived too long among the muggles."

"Maybe. But I…I just never thought that I could feel anything like I just did for people that I don't even know."

"Oh."

How many times had she heard that note in someone's voice over the last decade and a half? That first note of rising devotion and adoration? She had a feeling that he would be singing of them during temple services with much more enthusiasm. Many of the stronger-willed witches and wizards needed that final push, that final step that cemented the ties the inner circle made with that odd, binding power at the Great Battle's end. All it took was gazing upon their faces, to _seefeelsense _the divinity racing underneath their skin, behind their captivating eyes. It made you want to fall at their feet and beg for them to touch you, bless you, just once, _please_.

"I mean, I felt tied to them before, we all do, but that…that was fucking intense, Lycelle. What the fuck was it?"

What to say, what to say, what to say? The truth, she supposed. "It's the natural order of things, Tex. It's just…the ways things are supposed to be. Don't you agree?" He was quiet for a moment, but she knew what he would say; it was what they all said.

"Yes." So quiet, so hesitant. Then louder and more sure, "Yes."

"I know."

They stayed silent for the rest of the trip, and she was still angry when they reached the Palace. She told Tex goodbye and got the box back from him, and he stayed in the carriage to ride it back down to his country while she stormed in a side door and made her way to the Royal wing. If she'd had to walk the entire way, it could have taken literal days, the place was a maze, an enormous fucking maze, and the portals were there for a reason. If you had a wonderful onyx ring on your finger declaring you a member of the household, then the public portals were yours to use. Otherwise, have fun wherever you end up, and hope that you manage to make it in one piece.

She came out in one of the more plain hallways, one that looked older, but it was a deception. The halls of the place were barely fifteen years old, reconstructed by the hands of gods in honor of their High King and Queen's Chosen. It had taken them a week to rebuild on top of the ruins of the old Imperial Palace, but they truly had outdone themselves. It was done in sections, four large primary ones, each of which experienced a different season. The seasons rotated from section to section weekly, and the east side was having autumn in all of its glory; Virginia's season. And the hallway, for all of its modesty, was still extravagant.

Open windows lined the walls, showing an endless night sky littered with billions of twinkling stars, and a soft, warm breeze trailed in, smelling crisp, with the faintest whiff of wood smoke. Red, brown and orange leaves swirled in, littering the marble floor with splashes of color that crunched underfoot. It made some girlish part of her giggly, made her think of Samhain, of setting windows in the candles for the dead and lining the Great Halls with warm, steaming food in honor of their Ancestors, reminded her of burying apples for the homeless dead, of carving turnips for protection, of fending off the pixies and fairies and doxies, all of whom became crazed on All Hallow's Eve.

It reminded her of jack-o-lanterns and pumpkin pies, of spicy cider and honey mead, of dancing around and around the bonfire until you were so dizzy and full of worship that you fell onto those crackling leaves and the world seemed to gray, the Veil between the worlds that everyone spoke of drawing back and letting you _see_. Taking a deep breath, she savored the sharp scents that brought so very many memories. Gods, she loved autumn. Coming to a secret panel, she opened it and waited. She knew that if she just stuck her hand in and touched the plaque, she would die. But she knew better, and she stayed perfectly still as a shadow slid toward her.

"Yes?" The guard hissed, contained malevolence in that airy, dangerous voice, and she knew there were more guards all around her, guards that she couldn't see or even sense.

"I'm here to report. I'm sure you've been expecting me." She said evenly, and the guard said nothing, simply motioned for her to follow.

She was led through several more doorways and mirrors, a few walls, and one statue that must have weighed more than a giant. Then there was another panel and another plaque, and that one she _did_ touch, the world melting away again. She came out in a courtyard filled with more rustling leaves, trees whose baring branches reached for the heavens, and a fountain made of piled rocks that trickled into a pond surrounded by divans and cushions. A small bonfire burned to the left in front of open French doors and a raised porch made of green-veined black marble that reflected the permanent starlight like tiny flecks of silver.

There was nothing understated about this courtyard, and it was easily identified as Padma's by the large garden that took up almost half of the huge space, row after row of every plant and flower and herb imaginable. The twins had left their mark as well, brooms and Quidditch robes and a few spare daggers thrown haphazardly in one corner, left untouched until their return, just as their things always were by Padma's orders. There were also two pairs of familiar sais on one of the benches, Virginia and Pansy's, as well Anton's spiked leather wrist sheathes and Draco and Blaise's 'special' platinum cauldron, the one that no one was supposed to touch for safety reasons.

"Ah, so you've returned." That perpetually calm voice called, and she turned back to the large French doors, watching as Padma practically floated down the dark marble stairs. Her hair was plaited in a single, thick braid of glimmering rosewood, the black and red strands catching the silvery light and making it glitter. The green in her eyes seemed impossibly bright, lit from within, and Lycelle kneeled, suddenly deciding to wait for accusations until after she had sorted through the memories. "Rise."

"Your highness." She said formally. Padma was a Princess of the Royal family, legally adopted by Draco and Blaise as their sister, much as Pansy had been. She was also much more, and not to be trifled with.

"You got them." It wasn't a question, and Lycelle knew then that the males had opened their Marks already.

"Yes, your highness. Forgive me for the method I had to use. Anything else would have been a lie."

"You are forgiven. They would have found out sooner or later. I take it that you wish to use the Sansieve?"

"Yes, your highness."

"You may stay out here if you wish. It is at the pond's edge." Padma's serene, peaceful voice washed over her, and she nodded wordlessly before moving for the mentioned area.

How could grass be so soft? A strong desire to take her shoes off and let her bare feet touch that blessed greenery gripped her, but she resisted the urge for fear that she would foul it somehow. Padma was barefoot in flowing violet robes, but Padma was Royal and very nearly divine, and she could walk _anywhere_ and be worthy of it. Grace and life enfolded her like a cloak, though she was all but one of the immortal undead. Just enough left human to let her walk in the sun. But her Elemental energy had melded with it seamlessly somehow, and she was another paradox; earthy life and eternal death mixed into one. The others with the Blood were colder.

Even Blaise, with all of his scorching, crackling lightning, had a heart of ice that thawed for only a very few people. He and Draco had always been cold, so had Pansy and Anton, but she had watched Fred and George's hearts freeze over, darkness enveloping all until she could barely remember them any other way. And Virginia might wield flames and fire, but she had a heart to match her lovers', a heart just as glacial. But who could blame them? Who could blame them after all of the betrayal they had seen? They didn't even trust their own families. Only each other, always each other. Because only with one another could all doubt truly be gone.

The Sansieve looked much like the Pensieve that it had been forged from, except that it was made of stone the color of blood, and the runes were different, not obviously so, but a trained eye could tell the difference. She sat down on one of the divans gingerly, since it appeared made of crystal, the cushions a deep blue. She didn't really think it would break, but if it would, then she sure as hell didn't want to be the one who did it. Calling in the box again, she took several deep breaths, sensing Padma going back into hers and the twins' rooms, and she said a different spell, then laid her fingers lightly on its surface.

Yanked forward violently, she felt like she was coming out of her skin before she came to a sudden stop as if she'd hit a brick wall. She opened her eyes and saw—a little dragon. Recognition lit within her; it was one of the ones that they'd made so long ago to celebrate their relationship with Virginia. But it was not Draco or Blaise's eyes that she was looking out of, but Fred's. She just _knew_ it was him, and he was attaching something to the little dragon's foreleg. It was a tiny vial of some sort, a clear, tiny vial full of a dark yellow liquid, and she suddenly knew that it was poison, just as she had known that it was him, and she felt herself speak with his voice.

"Take this and fly, swift one. That foolish bastard won't see another dawn."

Emotions trickled to her, a simple neutrality about the whole situation. He was not in the least bit affected for sending someone a painful, anonymous death. The wizard had disobeyed his Kings' laws, he had hurt an innocent witch, and now he would die. It was as simple as that, and the dragons had been found to be excellent little assassins. The world spun again and he was looking at Padma. The emotions swamped her then, and it was as if she _was_ him. Love filled her to the brim as hers (his?) eyes raked over the piece of mocha perfection before her. Those dark, emerald-strewn eyes held all of the secrets of the world, and she craved to be closer, closer…

And then she was, and she was kissing those ravishable lips, and she was _home_. All she needed was her, all she craved, wanted, breathed was her, and she begged for something she couldn't understand. But she understood when fangs sank into her flesh, drawing her life's blood up through her veins and making her scream and beg again, this time for her to finish it, to turn her and make her like she was. And Padma did, because Padma loved her too, and she did as George asked as well, crawling up beside them and looking upon beauty enough to make one wish to weep. Gods, how they loved her, adored her.

She changed them both that night, that same night that they had first told her exactly how much she meant to them, and then Lycelle/Fred's world flipped, and she wasn't Fred anymore, but George. She knew that they had gone back, back to the day after the last battle, when she saw Marcello running up with her beside him, each of them dragging two huge, unconscious figures, adrenaline giving them strength. She felt George's confusion, then that same switch happened, and she was him, feeling what he felt as if they were one and the same. Moving closer to Virginia, she looked at the other six that she was bound to and saw the same confusion.

"Draco! Blaise!" Marcello was calling, and they all went to them.

"What is it?" Blaise asked, and Marcello looked ill and shocked as he answered.

"The traitor." Hisses followed his words, and he rushed on. "I saw him, saw him stab him. Gods, I think he's dead, and I didn't know what to do, and…" He'd trailed off because Draco threw the hood off the figure Lycelle had been pulling, and Vincent's deathly pale face looked ghostly in the rising sunlight.

"Vincent? Vincent was the traitor?" Draco asked in disbelief, and she went to him, kneeling beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"No." Marcello choked out, lifting the other figure's hood. "He was." George's eyes flew to that face, and surprise flared through her, surprise and apprehension. Gregory had never looked so sinister before, had he? Or was it only the knowledge that he had betrayed his closest friends, his lovers, that made him appear so? Mira would be devastated, and if Vincent survived…Draco, Blaise, Anton and Pansy looked like the world had just become less steady, and Pansy moved forward, her brandy eyes wide.

"No. No, you had to have seen it wrong." She said, shaking her head and backing away again. Anton was at her side instantly, but he didn't look much better off. Virginia had moved in between Draco and Blaise, her face full of such sorrow, as if she'd expected something so horrible.

"I didn't." Marcello said, his voice uneven. "Look." He leaned down and ripped open the side of Gregory's robes, revealing a muscled chest eaten away by leprosy and a grinning black skull on one forearm.

Draco, looking as blank and devastated as she had ever seen him, leaned down and laid a hand on Gregory's forehead. With the Marks open, she knew what he learned as he broke into the other's unconscious mind. Jealousy, anger, meeting with Voldemort, thinking, agreeing, getting branded with the Dark Mark, leaking information about their offices, about where they were, what they were doing, about Paris and Pansy. Putting the Imperius on Daphne and having her lead Pansy into the woods, having her trip, having her take off her amulet and be unable to use her wand to help Pansy fight. Feeling the madness and sickness grow and grow…

And always, there was envy. Such envy of the things he wasn't, such envy of those that had loved him. That envy turned rotten, spoiled, and it all came pouring out when Voldemort infused him with the Bane. So many things he'd helped do, murder and rape, coming in late and crawling up next to Vincent, and later, Mira, with the blood of his victims still on him, spicing it up to his new tastes. He wanted power, power that never would have been his, but he had sunken low enough in pursuit of it, being the first to break Daphne, and then having the balls to offer and carry her when they rescued her. He had given his amulet and Vincent's to their clone-like brothers, had told Vincent that he had lost his.

But his last betrayal was classic; a knife in his love's back.

Everything went black, and she was in a bed again, Padma riding her while Fred fucked her from behind, and she felt such wonder as she looked upon this goddess's face, as her eyes roamed over caramel skin as ecstasy raged liked a wildfire inside her, as she knew that from this day forward, she would get to call her wife, that she would get to spend eternity bound to her by marriage oaths as old as time. And then she was Fred again and she wasn't fucking anybody. No, she was years backwards again, watching Blaise drag a screaming Hermione into the Imperial Palace by her hair, his nails digging into her scalp hard enough to leave a dripping blood trail.

Down, down, down into the dungeons she was taken, and Blaise told her in a gleeful tone that he had found her in a boat marina, curled up next to Dean Thomas. He had left Dean alive and panicking, and he said that he'd actually changed his mind about killing Hermione. Apparently, Harry's condition (he was still in St. Mungo's) had given Blaise an idea, and he'd decided to keep her. As a pet. It took less than a day to break her, and when she wasn't wandering around aimlessly and drooling, she was sleeping in an oubliette designed specifically for her. And Lycelle/Fred…Well, she/he didn't really feel _anything_ about it. Blaise was their King; they followed him in all things.

Then she was back to being George, and she was sitting at a table with Virginia and Fred, across from their parents. Such anger, she was full of so very much anger, and it was the first time that she could feel herself rising to a murderous fury over something that they had done or said. But their mother had gone too far this time, and she swore that if that tear spilled from Virginia's eye, she would do something that she would regret, something to make them pay…Taking Virginia's hand, she squeezed her fingers, trying to let her know that it would be okay. Somehow, someway, she would make it okay, and her parents were talking again.

"Really, Ginny, you cannot seriously want to—"

"But I do, mum, I _do_!" Her sister argued, and Molly turned red.

"Honey, I didn't want to do this yet because I know that you're still too attached to them, but they're not good for you—"

"Not _good_ for me!?" Virginia exclaimed, rising from her seat. "They are my _life_!" Molly shook her head.

"Baby, it was one thing in the abstract, but this…what you're talking about…"

"I can't believe this." Virginia murmured, falling back into her seat. "I can't believe that you're doing this _now_…"

"I refuse to let you marry them!"

"And I do not need your permission, mother of mine!"

The world grayed out and she was going back again, back to last battle, and she was looking down at Jeran, loathing filling her to the brim. The Dark Lord's snake-whore, Nagini, was beside him, pinned by the twins' swords where they had left them. Neither had survived their master's Passing, and no more Revenants would be awoken as Jeran had been, not ever again. Then she was spinning away again, and random flashes of images and emotions coursed through her. Virginia, cherished, cherished Virginia, Padma, their hearts' joy, Draco and Blaise, their best friends, their Kings, Pansy and Anton, two who knew them better than almost anyone else.

Then it all stopped immediately, and her perception changed entirely. She was looking through two sets of eyes, and she felt so powerful that she thought she would burst. She was sitting on something so soft it felt like spun spider silk, and she knew suddenly that it was a cloud, that she was seeing through her Kings' eyes, and that they had brought their heart here on a date long overdue. Her eyes met her eyes, which was so very strange, though she understood on some level that it wasn't her, but Blaise and Draco looking at each other. They felt so strongly that it blinded her, stole her wits and left her hanging by a single thread of sanity.

Such devotion, such need, such worship…She felt it all as they looked at one another, felt their undying affection. Then her eyes lifted to meet Virginia's, and the intensity of the love that spiraled out from her core to engulf her nearly made her scream. How could they hold so much inside? How could they use their love for each other in such a way? How could they turn that into one force, making it possible for them, together, to love her more than anything, to love her more than any one person ever could? They considered themselves practically the same person, soul-sharers, and it only seemed natural to do so, to love her as one instead of separately.

And love her they did. No, she needed a _stronger_ word, but she did not know any. What could be stronger than love? Whatever she was feeling now, that's what. And she saw the same staring back at her out of Virginia's eyes, saw the same depth of feeling and desire and need that they themselves felt every waking moment, until it had become as routine as feeling their hearts beating, but so very much more revered than _that_, or anything else, could ever be. The war had been over a year and seven months, and they wanted something that they had thought to wait for sooner than expected. They had always wished for it, but now it was like a pressing _need_, all they thought of, and…

"What do you think so seriously of, beloveds?"

Gods, could her voice be any sweeter, any more like ambrosia to the ears? Could she be more beautiful inside or out? No, no, she couldn't be, for she was perfection, their perfection. She was standing, stretching, and she moved with grace untold, like a vision of flawless purity at its best, and they were enthralled by her every movement. Moving in unison, they crawled to her and stayed at her feet, knowing that for her, they would stay there forever if she asked it of them. She was the only one that they would ever kneel to, just as they were the only ones that she would ever kneel to, barring their Lord and Lady.

"Marry us." They said together, always together, especially for this. They felt her stiffen, felt her shock, and forgot all of the words that they had practiced, saying only what they felt and letting it come out as it wished. "Marry us and complete us and save us, nos cœur. We wish for nothing more than forever with you, and we will do anything to get that, anything at all. Tell us what you want and it is yours. You are our pride; our eternal joy. Without you, we are not Kings; we are not anything at all. Without you, all is bleak and tainted, all is colorless and dull. You are our dark sun, but we want you as our Queen, our wife. Marry us. _Please_." ((our heart))

Nothing else was said as they watched her watching them, and time seemed to freeze for a small eternity. Lycelle had never known her Kings could feel such nervous trepidation, but they were filled with it then, and she was them, and she was filled with it to. She had cracked into something larger and more intense than anything that she had ever known was possible, and it was all contained inside them, waiting for their lady's word. Virginia sank to her knees as well, her whole body shaking, and when she lifted her eyes to theirs again, so much was screaming in those charcoal orbs that she felt as if she were drowning in them.

"Yes, yes, gods yes, of course I'll marry you."

Euphoria. Pure, unhindered euphoria was all she knew after those words, and then she was spinning out again, walls forming around her, dark, dank walls that made her shiver and wish to be somewhere else. She had seen enough dungeons to know what one looked like, felt like, and she probably would have been terrified, but her Kings' weren't, and almost all she was feeling came from them. So she was able to look at the musty room impassively, able to look at the two young girls chained to the wall impassively, able to turn slightly and gaze upon their fathers impassively. She felt young, and the bodies she looked down at were barely seven or eight.

_No, no, please, no!_ What was left of _her_, just her, screamed out, knowing that she was in one of the memories she had never wanted to see, but she could do nothing as the men that looked so much like her Kings broke away from each other and turned their attention to their sons. She felt _nothing_ as she looked back at them, and it was such a drastic change from a moment ago with Virginia that it took some getting used to. Not to mention that they were so very, very young to have such dead, unfeeling places inside of them already. But they did, and at the moment, they were consumed by them, because they knew what their fathers wanted, and to feel was to go mad.

Then, once again, she was _completely_ another person, this time just Blaise, and she knew with a stinging suddenness what Lucius and Jeran demanded. She knew that the girls on the wall were muggles her age, and that their fathers wanted them to kill them. She knew that the other option was their own deaths, or so their fathers said. She looked over at Draco, and wanted nothing more than to get him away, to do it herself so that he didn't have to, but she knew better than to offer. Their fathers would just call them weak and go get a few more, turning the night into a full-on slaughter. And she understood their bloodlust already, but not their desire to take innocents.

What sport was there in killing little girls that were so scared their eyes were rolling back in their heads and all they could do was sob and cry for their mother? Sure, they were muggles, so much lesser than them, but what had they done, what _could_ they have done? They hadn't harmed anyone or even said anything insulting, they hadn't done anything at all. She thought, absently, that she would never kill without _some_ kind of reason, not of her own will. But this was not her own will, and if she wanted to keep Draco safe tonight, then she had to do what she was told, no matter how debasing she thought it to be.

And he…he would do the same, and she would never be able to keep the scars from building up on his soul. She could give a damn about her own, but Draco was precious, and deserved so much better. And that drove her to run the little girl through with a sword much too big for her small hands, and she watched the light trickle out of those shocked, broken eyes, feeling the dark, dark place within her grow. There was blood on her hands, her face, but she didn't move a muscle, just watched the girl's eyes even as Lucius dragged her away. And she felt…nothing. She felt nothing more than the fact that what had just happened was wrong, no matter what flavor your magic.

To feel was to go mad.

Then the world blacked out again, and again she switched bodies, minds, looking out from Draco's eyes as hers opened. The roaring of the crowd was the first thing to hit her senses, and then the bright flashes of robes as the players zoomed back and forth on their brooms. She was Draco, purely Draco, and she knew that they were at the Quidditch Cup, the one that had taken place the summer right after the war's end, and all of their closest friends were seated with them in the best seats in the stadium, as was Virginia's family. They had planned to bring them here as a treat to their love before the mess with Voldemort, and they had fulfilled that wish.

Everyone was smiling, laughing, and they were all supporting Scotland, who was winning. Blaise's hand was warm in hers, utterly beloved and identical to hers but for the black nails, and she couldn't have cared less about the game. Virginia's was even hotter trapped within her other hand, and just as cherished, and she wasn't the least bit fazed when Scotland scored again, or when their Seeker caught the Snitch, her mind on other, more appealing things. Things like creamy white skin underneath her fingertips; a curtain of blood falling around her as she sank fangs into everything so delightfully _Virginia_; indigo eyes glassy with ecstasy.

Love and unending need. She seemed swallowed by it.

Then back, back through time and other memories, dark mist surrounding everything until she was running through a hallway of Tenebre Stella as if a thousand demons chased her, running because she could hear him screaming, and he never screamed unless it was bad, so very, very bad. And she couldn't deal with almost losing him again; she _couldn't_. Their fathers grew more careless every day, and it took more to keep each other alive than ever before. Their mothers had been sent away like they were always sent away, and they tried not to let them know the worst of it anyway, because they would try to kill Lucius and Jeran, and then they would die.

She and Blaise had dealt with ten years of this shit anyway seeing as how they'd both turned fourteen months ago, and they didn't want or need their mothers' help or pity. She skidded around a corner, the screams growing louder, and she didn't even have time for fury as she saw Jeran, Lucius behind him, starting to shove Blaise down all of those twisting, winding stairs, stairs that seemed to grow so much longer all at once, even though there were plenty enough as is. And then, like getting hit in the head with a Bludger, she knew that she loved him. She'd always loved him, but this…She _loved_ him, loved him. More than anything, more than life.

She shot forward with a burst of that blurring speed they held as shapeshifters, and seemed to have all of the time in creation to watch that raven hair fanning out, to see that that they had ruined his face, that beautiful, heart-wrenching face, that they had taken all of the skin from it. She decided to ruin theirs mid-movement, lashing out with sharp claws and raking them over their cheeks and eyes even as she threw herself under Blaise, kicking him hard in the back to get him back on the landing, and then she was falling, falling, and she didn't pray for herself to be saved, but for him to be. Always him.

And now, _now_ Blaise was screaming, and she realized that he hadn't been doing so out loud before, but in his own mind, and that she'd just been hearing it through their link. But she could hear him doubly so now, she could hear him screaming and screaming as she hit the first of the marble stairs hard, and kept hitting them down and down and down until the world was growing black and she hurt in so many different places that it was all going numb and tingly. And _that_, she knew, was not good, not good at all. But it _was_ good in a way, because it was her body and not his, and her only regret was that it hadn't been her face as well.

It was a quick switch that time, moving from mind to mind, and she didn't change memories, just saw and felt it from Blaise's perspective almost instantly. She felt the skin on her face being peeled off, heard laughter that made her flesh crawl, and she screamed internally for all she was worth, because she wouldn't, she absolutely _refused_, to let _them_ hear her do so. She screamed because she didn't know if she could heal this, didn't know if she would be truly marred so horribly from now on, and the thought of Draco seeing her in such a state was almost unbearable. Damn the rest of the world, but Draco…

Then she felt herself start to fall, and what happened next happened so quickly that she barely understood what was going on. But she understood watching Draco fall, watching him fall for her, and enlightenment exploded through her as the first true scream left her lips. She loved him, gods how she loved him, and she barely registered leaping over the banister and falling herself, falling much too far for her already depleted strength to handle, and she felt her legs break as she finally hit the floor. But she'd hit before Draco, and that was all that was important, and she turned her eyes upwards to watch his progress.

He was hitting the marble hard, so hard, and she could hear bones cracking, the sound making her nauseous and furious. Four flights down he came over the edge, and she barely had time to crawl, her legs shrieking in agony, to get underneath him. He hit her hard, but she saved that precious silver head from cracking against the stone floor and splitting open, and as everything went black, she wondered if either of them would survive this night. It was a familiar feeling. Then the pain receded, the world changed, and she was sitting on a bed next to Virginia, Draco at her side, and their souvenirs from the World Cup were scattered around them.

"I really don't want to go back." Their love was saying, her nose scrunched up as she looked at the Hogwarts letter in her hands. "And I can't believe that you two think I should." She continued, glancing up at them.

But they only smirked, and waited for her to open the letter. She did so, ever so slowly, and a badge tumbled out and onto her lap. She picked it up, looking adorably confused, and flipped it over. Then her lovely eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth, and she…squealed. Jumping to her feet on the mattress, her eyes scanned the letter, widening ever farther before she started laughing, spinning around gleefully before falling back beside them and then jumping up again, not seeming to know what to do with herself. Then she launched herself at them, knocking them both over in a swirl of long skirts and crimson hair.

"I don't know how you…whatever you did…oh gods…thank you!!" She exclaimed, showering them in kisses from soft, warm lips and looking down at them with such affection and rapture in her smoky eyes that their hearts seemed fit to melt underneath her knowing gaze.

"It was not only us. Severus has had this planned since that night we mentioned it to him in his office after the Gryffindor mob incident. He'd had Dumbledore pretty much convinced months ago." Draco said somewhat breathlessly as her fingers trailed down his chest.

"And we, as the High Kings, can stay with you every night if you wish it. We would not leave you there alone." Lycelle/Blaise intoned silkily, and Virginia's smile was like blood running over their tongues, the stuff of life.

"I wish it." She said, and the Slytherin Head Girl badge glittered beautifully on her chest where she pinned it. They'd had nothing to do with the 'Head Girl' part, but everything to do with the 'Slytherin' part. And who was more Slytherin than she? She would make a good Head, and was a natural for the House Team.

Thrown out of the memory, Lycelle swirled and twisted until another took her, and she was in the Throne Room at the Imperial Palace, but she was seeing it as never before, considering that she was on one of the High Thrones. They were there to sever Virginia's blood ties with her brother, and both she and Ron were standing before the dais. Shifting to the side a bit, Lycelle became Blaise again, and she felt his vindictive pleasure, felt his hate of the redheaded fool before him. She looked over briefly at Draco, and they both lifted a hand, calling on the power of their Lord and directing it at the two before them.

It was like a giant knife severing a line that the eye could not see, and both would have fallen had Virginia's guards not caught her. Ron did fall, gasping and clutching at his chest as if he'd been ripped in half, and a genuine smile curved her lips and Draco's. The twins went next, and Ron was barely conscious by the time it was over. She rose, her soul-twin beside her, and they went to their love to soothe the pain while Padma went to the twins. And still there was that satisfaction, the knowledge that Ron would be gone from their lives forever. They would throw a party that night; a ball. Such an occasion deserved a celebration of magnificent proportions.

Then she was going back again, back and back until she was in a bedroom by the sea, the open windows letting in the pounding of the surf. She stood beside the window, looking over the blue water that stretched on forever, watching the play of moonlight on its surface. A soft rustling of sheets drew her attention back to the bed, and a soft, rare smile curved her lips. Draco and Anton were both very nude and very visible tangled in silk sheets, and they were still glowing faintly, testifying that the sex had been very, very good. She knew their bodies like the back of her hand, and while she wasn't in love with Anton as she was with Draco, she _did_ love him.

They were beautiful together, they always had been, and she knew that Anton would have a hell of a time unwinding himself from all of that platinum hair when he awoke. And hopefully, this would convince Pansy that she felt more than just lust for their dark-haired friend. Much more. They had seen her watching him. Then Lycelle was spinning away even farther back, and she was at Hogwarts, still Blaise, and she was sitting behind Pansy, who was sandwiched between her and Draco, and she was braiding her hair, which was long instead of short, and she let herself sink into the closeness between the three of them.

Candles were the only illumination in the room, and Pansy's hair was spread out over her thighs, tickling her skin and reflecting the light in dark gold highlights. She was kissing Draco, pale hands running over pale skin, and was safe with them, safe to be herself. She pushed back against Lycelle/Blaise, pushed back as if she were trying to crawl through, her body arching as Draco drew back and sunk fangs into the soft skin above her breast. Thankfully, that vision ended before Lycelle saw much more of her sister than she ever wanted to, and she was rocketing forward, back into the future before it stopped again.

She was back to being Draco, and she was helping Anton get his formal robes on straight, laughing and telling him not to worry, that as long as he didn't faint _before_ he said 'I do', then Pansy would forgive him. Blaise snickered and Anton threw a pillow at him, and she knew a moment of pure contentment. Then she was racing forward again until she came to a halt several months later, and she was gazing down at the small, rosy face of a child that had Anton's almost-black hair and Pansy's honey-colored eyes. Peace filled her from head to foot, a feeling of rightness and protection, and she knew that she would protect the tiny darling with all of her power.

Then there was Padma, Padma and the twins, and they were running through the underwater gardens, chasing one another as they tried to tangle each other up with long, slimy strands of seaweed. She was sitting beside Blaise and Virginia, Pansy and Anton on a kelp bed at their feet, bottling something and arguing the entire time, and she was laughing, because Virginia was trying her damnedest to talk Blaise into singing. He kept refusing and throwing pomegranate seeds at her, while she threatened to throw him out of the wards and into the open ocean. And suddenly, they were both hit with seaweed, and the twins were running away, snickering madly.

And then, then she was back to seeing through two sets of eyes and feeling mixed feelings from two sources that melded into one within her. A salty breeze whipped past them, blowing mercury and sable locks around their faces, and creatures of every shape and form and species were spread out around them, over the sand of the beach and surfacing from the churning waves. They mixed with their friends and family and loved ones, mixed with the nobles that had begged to come, with those of the general populace who wished for nothing more than to see the joining of such great Houses, of such great powers.

They wished to see the rising of their Queen.

And they were not denied it, because Draco and Blaise were thrilled enough that they were in quite generous moods, and it went with tradition for the people to witness the joining of Royals. So they stretched for as far as the eye could see over the earth, the nobility on floating carpets over the sea, lounging next to the merpeople and other sea life that had risen from the depths. Birds of every feather were lighted on every available perch, and so many more creatures spanned out everywhere that it was impossible to keep track of them all. Draco and Blaise stood a hundred feet off shore, the waves like a gently rocking floor underneath their feet, and they waited.

Everything waited, it seemed, as if the night itself was holding its breath, as if the earth had stopped rotating and all hearts had frozen mid-beat. They knew that theirs had. And then she was there, and sighs sounded from every throat, nearly lost in the pounding of the waves hitting the shore. She was utterly ethereal, divine and glorious, and their hearts had started again, thrumming madly as she took the first step towards them, her arm laced with her mother's. It was the mother who gave the bride away, because the mother brought the bride into this world, and it seemed only appropriate that she be the one to set her free.

Molly had refused at first, and Narcissa and Silana had planned to fill in, but she'd appeared early that morning, sobbing and apologizing and begging to get her place back, her daughter back. So she walked with her, but they barely even noticed. Their eyes were all for Virginia in her dress of deepest black, black the color of Blaise's hair, black embroidered with the runes of binding in a luminescent silver the exact same shade as Draco's eyes. The veil was the same color and it hid her face from them, but the Marks hid nothing, and they felt her joy meshing with theirs. They felt the same eagerness, the same anticipation, the same bliss.

It was a night of completion for them, a night of making the last of the bonds between them strong and unbreakable. But mostly, it would be a night of husky words and writhing bodies, of consummating their vows with actions and ecstasy that spoke louder than any words. It would be a night of worshiping her, a night of dark, dark passion and pleasure, and they would revel in it, in _her_. Their Queen. She took the first step out onto the waves, and the earth underneath her split open, hot, boiling magma solidifying underneath her feet and making a carpet of red and black with every step that she took.

It didn't burn her or her mother, but the steam coming off of the water obscured them in wavering tendrils, and her scarlet ringlets swayed around her, loose and unbound. A tightness grew within their chests as she drew ever closer, spiraling out to the tips of their fingers and toes in ripples, and they knew that the twins, Pansy and Anton could feel it too as they stepped back from them the smallest bit, their faces filling with wonder as they truly felt the full extent, the bottomless abyss, of their Kings' love. They'd felt their hate, their fury, the blank, black places that were filled with nothing but empty coldness, but never this.

Padma felt it as well, standing behind them and getting ready to marry them, bind them, and she laughed, she actually laughed, as if something had been lifted from her, some worry that she'd kept hidden, as if she'd feared that those empty places outweighed everything else. And they did, just not this, not Virginia, not each other. Their love for one another and for her was endless, timeless, and as she finally reached them, as each took one of her hands, nothing had ever been more aligned; nothing had ever seemed to fit together so well. Their vows slithered from them, vows that had been spoken countless times by countless pairs of lips, and they meant every word.

They could _feel_ it, feel their souls reaching out and wrapping around one another tighter than anything should have been able to get to them, until all three split open and spilled into each other, through each other. The wind picked up, howling around them madly, the water grew choppy and unstable, and the lava beneath their feet spread and grew until they stood on a small island, a dais built of devotion. They drew her veil back, and everything they felt was reflected there, reflected in their Marks, and they kissed her, crowned her, made her their Queen. Cheers drifted over the waves to them, and closer ones right next to them, but they knew nothing but each other.

Again, Lycelle was ripped away, and she wanted to fight it that time, because she didn't want to lose that dark fount of power and emotion, but she had no choice. She found herself in Blaise's body, time moving backwards again, and she was stalking down a dark passageway that led to a small study in the Manor, a study that her love was being held in. She remembered lying in the field with him, eating strawberries and drinking wine, she remembered their fathers coming and finding them kissing, and she remembered the argument afterwards. But after that all was fuzzy and distorted, and she had woken up in the kitchens, drugged and insensible.

But their fathers had underestimated her, and she had mostly fought off whatever poison they'd used, using her link to her lover to sense him out. The kitchen staff had tried to make her stay when they'd seen the murder in her eyes as she'd felt Draco's disgust and revulsion, when she'd felt his fury and growing madness. Now she went to him, and she would kill whoever or whatever was in that room with him. She'd made it to the right floor when Draco's mother and Severus came around a corner ahead of her, but she paid them no heed, not even as they were running after her, pleading with her to stop. They just didn't understand. She couldn't.

"Blaise, they will kill you!" Narcissa was whispering furiously, her sky-blue eyes frantic. "They will kill you both!"

"And I would rather die beside him than leave him to die alone!" She bit back, shaking Narcissa off and pulling open the study door, ripping it right off of the wall and tossing it aside.

Fury was not a forceful enough word for what gripped her as she saw what was happening inside that room, nor was anger or ire or rage. Draco was full of holes, so very many holes that she could see the wall behind him, and he wasn't healing very well due to the chains of davasca pinning him to the wall. He had much more of the toxic fluid pumping through his veins than she did, and only repulsion kept him awake. Repulsion because Jeran had his face between Draco's legs, his mouth wrapped around him. Lucius stood to the side, his dick out and his hand wrapped around it, and Draco's loathing eyes were all for him, filled with such freezing hate the temperature was starting to drop.

Jeran noticed him first, but Lucius spoke.

"Do not come closer, or he will take what's most precious to you." As he spoke, Jeran pulled his lips back enough to let Blaise glimpse teeth set firmly in his lover's soft skin.

"If you think that is what is most precious to me, than you know me even less than I thought." She said, and Draco's weary eyes lifted at the sound of her voice, filled with the same promise of death that filled her own.

He was still too drugged to call on his magic, though, still too foggy with pain and poison, but she wasn't. Crackling, frying lighting spread over her skin and lit within her eyes, and she had never felt it so strong before. She knew what was happening suddenly, knew that her first unleashing was upon her, and she let out the first wave of that energy with barely a thought. Jeran was hit first, convulsing and letting Draco go involuntarily, and then Lucius, who hit the wall hard, slumping to the ground gracelessly with his pants around his ankles. Then she was moving and undoing those forsaken chains, Draco falling against her painfully.

Calling in a cloak and wrapping him in it, she did the only thing she could think of, and kissed him. She kissed him and poured that unrestrained energy into him, down his throat and through his body. It raced through the poison, slashed through the pain, and it cleared his head enough to let him feel his own unleashing underway, cleared it enough to let him pull on that power, that cold, cold power, and he healed under the mixing of magic, healed under her lips and hands. A strange steadiness filled them, and neither wondered at it, they just went with it. Years and years of hate poured out, poured out until it exploded out and sought the source.

It was the first time that they had felt each other's Elemental magic in such a way, and they twisted them together, ice and lightning slamming into their fathers with enough force that they simply…disintegrated. But it wasn't true disintegration, more like they'd been plastered all over the walls, and suddenly, that wasn't enough. They wanted to wade in all of that chunky red slush, grind every bit of remaining bone into paste until it slid between their fingers in heavy drops. And they were doing just that when they were pulled back, Narcissa and Severus screaming something about it having been several hours and Aurors coming, but they heard none of it.

And still that hate had grown, grown while they were in Azkaban and then later at school, grown until it was all they'd thought of. But then Virginia had come and she had pulled them back from the edge of that pit of corruption that it had been slowly driving them to, but it still stayed, always hidden, always there. Because fathers were not supposed to do the things they had done, not to their children. Because fathers had ties to their sons, deep ties, ties that were not severed with death, only with life, and they could not make life, only death. Death was all they knew, all they'd ever known. So they would carry the wounds to their graves.

Choking and gasping, Lycelle came back to herself, the smell of raw meet and congealed blood trapped in her throat, the horrible things she had seen racing through her mind, and she crawled a little ways away from the pond in order to be thoroughly sick. She was shaking and trembling, and she threw up until nothing but bile burned her throat, threw up as if trying to rid herself of all that she had seen and felt. She couldn't remember the good things, only the bad, and she felt like she was drowning in them, suffocating and silently screaming. Tears were pouring down her face, bitter, bitter tears, and that time she screamed aloud, her rage rushing back.

"Padma!" She got to her feet, stumbling as she drew herself up, the damned box lying on the ground like a hideous wooden reminder. "Bride of the Night, hear me and answer for this!"

"What is it, Lycelle?" That gentle, soothing voice intoned from behind her, but nothing could soothe the things she had seen.

"Do not act so bloody fucking calm!" She shrieked, losing her control completely, and Padma stayed still, not a single strand of her hair so much as swishing in the breeze. "How can you stand there, so pristine and perfect, after what you've done?"

"What's going on?" Pansy called from the doorway, Anton beside her, and Lycelle spun on them.

"Wrong? What's fucking _wrong_? The things in my head, that's what's bloody wrong!" She was pulling at her hair, and she knew that she must have looked as crazed as she felt, but she couldn't help it.

"Lycelle—" Pansy started, but she cut her off.

"You knew, do not say that you didn't! You all knew, and you let me go there, you let me ask such a thing from them, you let me see things that I should never have seen! You had me request this of them, you had me rub in how it was for Virginia, when you _know_ how they feel, when you _know_ that they would do anything for her! You…Oh gods, they blocked the worst of it! If the things that I saw were that horrible, then what must the things that the Kings blocked from the box have been like? What have I done? What have _you_ done!?" The last came out hysterical, and she fell to the grass, fighting their hands as they tried to calm her down.

She didn't want to be calm, she wanted to hurt something, someone. Them, herself, it didn't matter. How to explain the feeling within her, how to explain what the Kings meant to their people to those that were almost their equals? The reforming of the Shadow Court had been exalted by all, and they had not been idle Kings. They had made them great again, made them a worldwide power that was recognized, respected and feared by the muggles, but they had done more than that as well. With Virginia, Padma, the twins, Pansy and Anton, they had started healing the world itself, making it healthy and green once more.

They had always said that the wizards were supposed to have been the caretakers of the land, but mixing with the muggles had made us forget, made us destroy. Many had never thought that they were telling the truth or that they actually cared, but they'd thrown themselves into it, their magic, Elemental and dark alike, cleansing the worst of the pollution first, regrowing towering forests and jungles, hills and glades, cleansing the oceans, fixing the ozone. Oh, and the cities! They were built in the styles of the ancients, Roman and Greek, Celtic and Egyptian...The list went on and they were all beautiful; works of art almost too spectacular to live in.

There were Babylonian-type hanging gardens that actually had the cities on them in the sky, and cities built in the tops of massive trees, on mountains, even in enormous underground caves. But the jewels, the most stunning and breathtaking, were the huge, rebuilt cities on the moon and on the ocean floor, one of which was the capital, Caliga. They could live anywhere they wanted with magic when they didn't have to worry about being seen or hiding. The ruins of the Imperial Palace on the moon had been unearthed, as had the ruins of its sister Palace in Caliga, under the waves of the Atlantic. So much done in so little time.

Their people lived again as they had always been meant to live, their magic openly coating every aspect of their lives, and they owed that to them. They owed the healthy soil and the clean air to them, they owed the trees and the thriving animals to them, they owed the return of the gods to them, and she had just had four of them go through something horrid in return. She felt guilty and angry and somehow as if she had failed them, and she wished that she could turn back time, or have her memories erased like Daphne's had been, so that she could live her life without such foul things in her mind, in her heart and soul.

Daphne had been granted that gift, her memories of the rape wiped clean, because her friends had not been able to watch her ghost around, Melody trailing her like a grieving widow. They had not been able to bear the pain in her eyes, the remembered horror, and they had asked her one day if she wanted it all to disappear. Many Light witches and wizards would never have done such a thing, saying that she needed to deal with it, but why? Why make her relive the worst moments of her life day by day when they could stop it? She had said yes, she had begged and pleaded, and the Kings had erased her memory of the rape, nothing more.

She smiled again, laughed again, and they all knew that it was worth it every time that they saw her running through the halls, some new concoction in a small cauldron as she rushed off to share her latest discovery with Melody or Severus or one of the Royals. And now, now all that Lycelle wanted was the same release, the same forgetfulness. She wanted the images that seemed burned into her eyelids gone, wanted to quit seeing them murdering little girls and bathing in their fathers' blood. She wanted everything back the way it had been a few hours ago, when she was still in bed with Marcello, her only worry being what flowers to put on the White Lady's altar that day.

"Lycelle?" Her sister called, and she jerked away.

"Do not touch me!"

"Lycelle…" That from Anton, and she raised her eyes to his, letting him see all of her anguish.

"Did you know?" She questioned harshly. "Did you know what it would make them relive? Did you know that they would remember their fathers so clearly, remember things that will give me nightmares for years? Did you willingly subject your best friends to that? _Did you!?_"

"Yes." He said, his face closing down into that bored mask that they all wore so well.

"Bastard. Fucking bastard." Then she was crying, really crying, but she still wouldn't let any of them near her. She curled up on herself, curled up until her head was between her knees and her tears stained her robes, and she cried. For herself, for her Kings, for misery in general. Then the Lady was there, and She did soothe part of the ache, but nothing could make it ever fully leave her, _nothing_.

"Maybe we should take her to her rooms. If I'd known that it would be so hard for her, I would have—"

"It's not about me!" She shouted, jumping to her feet. "It would be so like you to think only of yourself, Anton!" She didn't really mean that, but she meant to wound, and she knew how to do it, because she still had part of her Kings' knowledge, and she couldn't think better of using it, even though she should have. "You have always cared only for yourself; I doubt that you even truly love my sister! No wonder you didn't tell Virginia about any of this! A 'gift', indeed! She would never condone…How could anyone with a heart make them do that? How? I'll tell you how. Because you do not _have_ one. You only love their power, their—"

"Stop." Anton hissed, that mask starting to crack with fury and darker things, and she watched his fingers curl, wondering if he would hit her. She hoped that he would, even as she desperately wanted to take her words back, to tell him that she was sorry. Instead, she kept talking.

"It's true! You do not love them, only what they stand for! You love their names and their titles, and only that! You didn't see them, you didn't see how much this remembrance hurt them, you didn't see—"

"I have seen it countless times!" He finally snapped, the black specs in those hazel eyes growing larger, and she knew, suddenly, that she had gone much, much too far. "Do not presume to tell me about ones that I love more than my own life! You barely fucking know them, you only know what you saw, but have you ever helped them live with that burden? _I_ have! I have taken that raging madness into myself to make their pain less to bear, and here you call me heartless? Go fuck yourself, Lycelle." Then he was spinning on one heel and stalking off with grace to die for, and she watched him go with a sense of emptiness, of regret.

"You owe him an apology." Pansy said, and she didn't like the tone in her sister's voice at all. "I understand what you're going through, or I would not forgive you for the things you just said. Anton has very nearly died for them more times in this life than I would like to count, and he has seen them through memories much more wretched than any _you_ might have seen."

"But they were so horrible, Pansy, so horrible." She muttered, sitting again and rocking back and forth. "What could be worse than what I've already seen?" She looked up after both women stayed silent, and she didn't like what she saw in their eyes. It made her skin prickle, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she wondered just how much they had been siphoning off of the Kings to keep them sane. She asked before she could stop herself, and Pansy blinked before shaking her head.

"Don't worry about it, we'll be fine. But them reliving what they did was necessary in a way, because they needed to before tomorrow night when they return."

"Why?"

"Because Virginia plans to start the true healing, and that will help it along. You threw accusations at us quickly enough, but you should know better than most that we would never ask such a thing of them unless it was worth it. And if Virginia succeeds, it most certainly will be. Now, you can leave if you like. We can finish from here."

"No, no, I can do it. I said I would."

And so she did. She prepared the Sansieve as best she could, keeping only the good memories for it and leaving the bad ones, and she tried to think of how to apologize to Anton, how to say sorry for words that she should never have spoken. She doubted that he would ever really forgive her for them, and she couldn't blame him. Because she _did_ know how much he loved them, them and her sister and his other bonded, she _did_ know how much they all meant to him. Hell, she'd been him put himself between Virginia and a psycho wielding a machine gun, had seen him the mornings after he'd channeled part of Draco and Blaise's pain, although she hadn't known what was wrong at the time.

She just hoped that he would at least listen.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**January 27th**

How dare she! How dare that little White Wanderer bitch speak of things that she knew nothing about? How dare she throw things in his face that she fucking knew weren't true? Gods, he couldn't fucking stand her half the time anyway due to the Light power that she was saturated with, but now…Now he just wanted to see her blood run. If she were anyone else…But no, it helped nothing to think of such things. He was so angry he could barely see straight, and that wouldn't do at all. And it really didn't help when he'd barely made it three floors down before being stopped by some cloaked peasant wanting favors or some sort of blessing.

Duty could be a real bitch sometimes.

"Yes?" He asked, and the kneeling figure rose. He caught a glimpse of dark skin and brown eyes that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it and didn't care to.

"I was told to come to you, your highness, since the Queen has left orders not to be disturbed."

"What has happened now?" He asked, used to it all by now.

And as a Prince of the Realm, due to being a sworn brother of the High Kings, he got to deal with all sorts of shit on a daily basis, most of it quite odd. Commoners and nobility alike brought him and the rest of the Royal family things that they didn't want to bother the Kings and Queen with. But then again, there were times like the one that the Queen herself had had an issue _about_ the Kings. Apparently, she and Draco had found Blaise tucked away in some closet somewhere, watching the most _interesting_ recording crystal. And it hadn't been one of the ones of Ron turning into a pink snake (although those had made them quite a pretty profit).

Oh no, Blaise had apparently recorded something else _entirely_, and when Virginia had told him that he was a fucking porno addict, he'd asked what 'porno' was. While explaining, both Draco and Blaise had become enthralled, and declared that they wanted to add a 'porno' company to their lists of businesses. Appalled, she'd gone to her brothers first for help, but they'd agreed with Draco and Blaise, and had thought that their shops, which were currently worldwide, would be awesome doubled as 'porno' shops. So then she'd found _him_, and she'd nearly slapped him when he'd laughed and asked if he could get free products, being a close, personal friend and all.

Eventually, when she'd realized that they didn't mean to star in the movies themselves, she'd agreed, and she'd told him later, when they were very, very high one night, that Blaise still recorded everything, and that Draco was almost as bad. Recording crystals were everywhere, she'd laughed, and when he'd stayed quiet, she'd gotten that knowing look in her eyes and had quietly demanded, '_You _knew_, didn't you?_', and being as wasted as he was, he'd snickered and agreed, then told her not to worry, because he had his and Pansy's rooms rigged too. Then she'd called them 'filthy males' before making him let her see so that she could torment Pansy later.

'Filthy _males_', indeed.

"Nothing too serious, your highness." The man in front of him replied. "The Lady Wilbrige was in muggle London earlier, and the car that she was in malfunctioned. I know a bit about muggle devices, and I saved her from going into a lake. She said to tell you that I am owed a Royal favor, and that this will prove it." The man held out a ring, a ring that Anton recognized immediately, and he took it from the mudblood before him. He'd known the purity of the blood as soon as the man had been in smelling distance.

"And all of this happened when?"

"Earlier today, your highness. We only just took the lunar transport since the ether coaches were all in use."

"And she is alright? Why were we not informed immediately?"

"The lady's orders, your highness."

"We shall see." Closing his eyes, he called to Daphne, reached for her mind with long practice, and he brushed against the outside of her inner barriers before she opened them enough to let him in.

'_Anton?_'

'_Are you okay?_'

'_Ah. I take it my helpful hero has made it to you._'

'_Answer the question before I come and see for myself and make you swallow a thousand different tonics._'

'_I wasn't hurt, Anton. You worry too much._'

'_Females always say that, when you all worry ten times as much._'

'_Ten times as much as a normal man, perhaps, but you are not normal, are you, dear one? No, our Slytherin males are special, unique._'

'_I would rather that you didn't mock me right now._'

'_Someone has angered you. Very well, but I was not mocking you. And we appreciate it, even though we tease you all about it. But truly, I'm fine thanks to the Gryffindor hero. Give him whatever you think my life is worth._'

'_The sun, then? A few thousand stars? What a stupid thing to say, Daphne. But I'll see what I can do. And did you say '_Gryffindor?' Her laughter was all of the answer he got, and he looked back at the man standing before him.

"Your highness?"

"She says that you saved her life. For that I will grant you any boon that you wish of the Shadow Court, for she is dear to us. But keep it somewhat reasonable. I certainly won't make you immortal, or any such drivel."

"I wish only for something that you possess, something that means nothing to you and everything to me."

"No riddles, either. Come, just say what you want."

"I want Hermione Granger."

"Really." Well, whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been _that_. Who in the hell would care about _her_? Harry was locked up in the loony bin, stark-raving mad, Ron was banned from both capital cities and didn't really give a shit anyway, and he couldn't smell any Polyjuice in the man's bloodstream, which meant that it was someone else.

"Yes, your highness. That is the favor that I ask of the Shadow Court in return for one of your most beloved noble's lives."

"She is not mine to give away."

"You are blood-bound and soul-bound to the Kings and the Queen. They would not stop you if you commanded her release."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"No, but I am sure of you, your highness. I am sure of your status, and I am sure that they deny you nothing. Please, your highness. She is all I think about. I wonder if I could have saved her, if I could have—"

"Stopped her from willingly handing over her amulet to Voldemort? Stopped her from obsessing over our Silver King until it had twisted her, corrupted her? Blaise warned her, time and time again, and it is not our fault that she didn't listen, nor is it yours. So stop feeling guilty about things that you cannot change, for they will only destroy you."

"But I have to change this, and I can if you let me take her, if you let me try to help her."

"She is a convicted traitor. We cannot just let her go."

"Then keep her tracked, keep us both under surveillance, but please, _please_, your highness, let me have her, let me get her out of here."

"Oh, give her to Mr. Thomas, Anton. She does nothing but drool on expensive furs anyway." A familiar, haunting voice said from the shadows to their left, and both dropped to their knees as their Kings came into view. Anton rose when Blaise wrapped a hand around his shoulder, and he kissed his Kings' cheeks before embracing the twins as well.

"I didn't think that you were supposed to be back until tomorrow." He said aloud, while inside, he was shouting at Pansy to warn Virginia incase she hadn't sensed them arrive. He hadn't, so there was a good chance that they were shielding. Pansy heard him and started for Virginia's chambers at a dead run, and his full attention went back to his friends.

"We weren't. But it was the funniest thing. The Americans think that it would be positively _splendid_ to let our people have the Great Days off as national holidays." Blaise intoned lazily, and Anton's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"What alternative did you give them?" He asked suspiciously, and Blaise sneered.

"Would I play so dirty?" He asked, looking offended, and Anton wondered if that look would deepen should he laugh outright.

"Yes. In a bloody heartbeat. What was it this time? Did you threaten to kill all of their firstborn sons again? You probably really shouldn't have read their Bible. You find throwing things back in their faces from it all too funny."

"And _you_ don't?" Blaise scoffed. "I'm not the one who set a bush on fire in a public park and projected my voice so loudly that you had an entire city praying in the streets, thinking that the apocalypse was upon them."

"That was an _accident_." Anton argued, and George snorted.

"How in the fuck do you '_accidentally_' do something like that, Anton?" He asked, and Anton scowled.

"Look, all I was trying to figure out was what other option you gave the Americans. You all make things so _difficult_ when you go alone."

"Yeah, and you're a real charmer." Draco supplied. "At least we didn't dress any conveniently unconscious Senators in drag and hang them outside of the White House just to prove that we could get around the muggle guards."

"That wasn't the _only_ reason, and you know it. And how, exactly, did this become about _me_?"

"It's because we've missed you so much, Anton love." Fred said dramatically, swaying and falling to the side enough that Anton had to catch him or let him hit the ground. The grin on the redhead's face made him wish that he'd chosen the latter.

"Oh, fuck you all. You can deal with this Granger bullshit, because I'm going to go find my wife, as I'm sure you'll all be doing. Have fun, and _do_ tell me how it goes."

"How _what_ goes?" They called after him as he left, but he only snickered, whispered, "Don't you wish you knew," and kept on walking.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**January 27th**

They were back early! Early! Everything could have been _ruined_, she hadn't been shielding, and oh, thank the _gods_ for Anton! She would have to do something very, very nice for him sometime soon, maybe a vacation in the Greek Archipelago for him and Pansy, she'd watch their brats, she adored them…But now was not the time to worry about _that_, because her husbands were back, and it was time to see what their future would hold. She could keep the shields up only so long before they would get suspicious, so it was best not to test her luck. And gods, was that the door opening? It was. Standing and smoothing her hair down, she tried not to panic.

"Virginia?"

Sweet Circe, she had missed them. They'd only been gone what, four, five days? First to France, then to Russia, then to the States, but it had felt like much longer, and she forgot her hesitation in favor of running to them and throwing her arms around them, breathing in their scent and letting her world fully right itself once more. They rarely went to visit other leaders, since those leaders usually came to them, but every once in a while they did, or she did, or they all did, but she hated it when they were separated. Call her selfish, but so be it. She was fucking selfish. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"I missed you." She said, _had_ been saying, time blurring as it always did around them, and she pulled back slowly, minutely. "Did our people get their Holy Days?"

"Of course, ma chéri." They replied, their faces buried in her hair, muffling their intoxicating voices. "But why do you shield from us?"

"Come with me." She said, taking their hands and leading them outside, into the warm, autumn-spiced air.

Muggles hadn't believed that they could live on the moon, but what did they know of wards and shields and spells? They hadn't believed that they could live in floating cities or on the ocean floor, either, but that didn't make it any less true. She didn't stop in their courtyard, but kept going, scaling the wall with them easily and heading towards the Royal family's private gardens, gardens filled with flowers and plants that stood out vividly against the dusty white layer of dirt that rested above the richer soil that they had brought to life underneath it. They went deep into them, so deep that trees almost blocked out the endless stars and the scent of mint and lemons covered all, reminding her of her lovers, which is why she'd picked this place.

"I have something to show you." She said, since 'tell' wasn't the appropriate word. Not for them, not for wizards as strong as they were. She guaranteed that it would be visual, and she was as excited as she was nervous.

"Then show us, precious one, but stop hiding." Draco's fingers were in her hair, Blaise's on her waist, and she sank to the ground, pulling them along with her.

"I found a spell, a spell that I brewed last week and used the night you left for France." She met their eyes, saw their patience and acceptance of whatever it was, and wondered if they would still look like that in a moment.

"Hmm, oui, we remember that night. It was quite…entertaining."

"Yes, well, that 'entertainment' is what made this spell activate, and look, my loves, look what it has done."

She took their hands, placed them on her stomach, and she let her shields drop before they could question her. She let them feel the brand-new life that was growing within her, the life that pulsed of all three of them so strongly that it took her breath away. She hadn't allowed herself this luxury yet, she'd wanted to wait for them, and she was glad that she had. She felt their shock, their bafflement, then…then she felt their wonder, their awe, their joy, and the intensity of it almost brought her out of her skin. She felt them thinking that they would love the child always, no matter which of theirs it was, and she corrected them gently, just as awed as they were.

'_No, beloveds, look deeper. Not one, but two._'

They did, and the shock that time was much more profound as they realized what her spell had done. Twins, she carried twins, but they were not just hers and Draco's or hers and Blaise's, because she had found a way to meld them both together, to take the essence of both and make it one. Each child had a bit of each, a bit of Virginia, of Draco and Blaise, and each had something uniquely their own, even so early. Muggle children weren't infused with a soul until well into their second trimester, but wizarding children were semi-aware from the moment that they were conceived. With training, one could access those memories, though they were quite repetitive.

But for wizarding adults who had an unborn child before them in such a way, an unborn child of their blood, they could…touch the child almost, send it feelings and emotions and thoughts, and the child would respond, its aura throbbing with good things and shrinking with bad things. But for the three of them, Seers every one, it was more than that, as well. As soon as they made that reach, as soon as they brushed their children with loving mental fingers, they Saw many things. They Saw them as they were then, flickering and barely there, the smallest candle flames in a world of darkness, and then they Saw them later, growing, changing.

They watched, utterly enthralled, as they Saw them right after they were born, all fuzzy heads and bright-dark eyes. Then later, as they stumbled from place to place, learning how to walk and run and fly, and Virginia's heart skipped a beat and caught in her throat as she got her first true glimpse of what they looked like with their eyes the colors that they would be forever and their achingly familiar hair. She already loved them, how could she not, but now she longed for them desperately. One had Blaise's raven hair, but the tips of it were Virginia's fiery crimson, and his eyes were the silver of spilt mercury, mercury ringed in charcoal.

The other was his exact opposite, even as their features were perfectly identical, and she wanted to touch them, kiss them, hold them. His twin had Draco's metallic, platinum hair, the tips of which were also the same shocking scarlet, as if they'd been dipped in fresh blood, and his eyes were blue, that soul-stealing blue that saw right through you, and those indigo orbs had their own smoky gray rings. Then they faded, only to reappear older, six or seven, and they were gazing up at Draco and Blaise as if they were the center of the universe as they spoke, and her heart melted right there and then.

Then forward again, until they were twelve or thirteen and dressed in green and silver Slytherin Quidditch robes. The ebony-haired one was grasping a Snitch, sneering proudly, while the other held a Quaffle propped on his hip carelessly, and she distantly heard cheering and familiar Slytherin hisses. Then the image changed again, and she wanted them to last longer, _longer_, but she knew that she was lucky for this to be happening at all, and she went with it. They were older again, older and graduating, and she sucked in a startled breath. They looked exactly like their fathers but for their hair and eyes, so alike that they could have been brothers, quadruplets.

It briefly reminded her of her lovers' demonic clones, but _these_ clones looked out over the crowd at Draco and Blaise with rapt adoration, not loathing or jealous hate. Then their eyes turned to her, and she felt faint. _Such love_, she thought. _I never loved my parents like that. But then, they never loved me this much, either. _Because love them she did, and she could feel their love for her, like a beating pulse inside her soul, and she snapped out of their vision, snapped back into the reality before her. Amazement danced within her as she gazed down at her stomach, and she saw the exact same in her lovers' eyes when they ripped their own away to meet hers.

"You…" Draco started, then couldn't seem to finish, which was rare.

"I…" That time Blaise had the faulty speech patterns, but she wasn't doing much better herself.

"How did you…"

"I mean, did you _See_ that…"

"Are you mad?" She finally formed words, and both stopped abruptly and just stared at her for a moment as if she'd gone completely insane.

"Mad?" They both questioned slowly, as if making sure that they had heard her right, and she nodded.

They looked down again, back at their fingers, which were still on her abdomen, and she waited, waited to see which path they would be taking. Would the first vision that she had come true? Or would the vision of their children that they had all just witnessed come to pass? She had needed them surprised, needed them unguarded, because this moment meant more than anyone could know. Would their memories of their own fathers taint their views, or would they finally be free of them by embracing her gift to them, embracing their sons? Would they finally be able to heal? As soon as their eyes met hers again, she knew that everything would be fine, and her joy was so great that she hardly registered their words.

"No, we are not mad. We're ecstatic. It was simply…unexpected."

_finis_

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Well, that's the end! This was almost three times as long as a normal chappie, just for you guys! I hope you've all enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and thank you to everyone who's reviewed, and to those who will still review. A lot of my life went into this, and I truly appreciate all of your support.

Now, help me break 1000 reviews, minions! LOL!

dracademented

((Samhain – Halloween))


End file.
